Sin
by Miss Slaughter
Summary: Sin is a human slave who is chosen to serve her vampire masters, her heart longs for freedom and a love forbidden to her kind.
1. One Updated 01 04 2012

One

* * *

_Wake up._

The voice floated like a phantom through the delicate landscape of her dreams, dreams of golden and gossamer celestial spheres and elaborate thrones, her spectral being dancing in the embrace of gods to the songs of nymphs and angels.

_Wake up, Sin._

Her eyes fluttered open and the fragrant dusk greeted her senses that had been so absorbed by her dreams. She had fallen to sleep nude body upon the soil, but a nighttime chill slithered through the stalks of wheat in the field beside her beckoning her to wake.

"We have to go now."

Her eyes filled with the smile that turned her cousin's lips but there was tension about his eyes belying his fear. She reached up with a hand to touch his smooth, boyish cheek. "I was dreaming, cousin."

"Always dreaming." His lips fluttered against her hand spreading the warmth of his breath raising goose bumps on her arm.

He turned his face up to the sky, a sea of glittering stars winked from the heavens and queen amongst them all was the full and pregnant moon. Light gleamed off of the dark strands of his hair and Sin was enchanted by his crude beauty. "It's almost time." He said.

"For what?" She asked softly.

"The Choosing."

She shuddered. The Choosing came at the end of every spring in Elysion, a time where all slaves who had come of age were presented before the Stewards and selected to work the fields, to feed the Hounds or to serve the House.

Their whole life was commanded by the will of the House. The Lords and Ladies who lived far beyond the fields, she had never seen them before but there were tales of pale spectral faces of incomparable beauty. The rumors were that ichor ran in their veins and that they were as different from their slaves as the Hounds were from wolves.

This was why he had been troubled, why they made love with violent haste and he had left bruises on her tender skin. "Do you believe in freedom, cousin?" She asked.

He looked down at her, eyebrows knitted in distress. "What is freedom? We cannot live without the Maegesters and they cannot live without us. There is no such thing in this life."

"And what about the next?"

"Next?"

"The next life."

He smiled in such a way that reminded her of all of her kin, the same twist of the mouth that bore no pleasure nor humor; it made her blood boil. They were slaves, and like all good slaves they believed that they came from nowhere and knew nothing.

Sin sat up, her limbs creaking.

Her cousin had already climbed to his feet and pulled on his hessian breeches. "We must go now, Sin."

"Yes we must go." She thought. It was a forbidden thing they did, coming out to the fields, laying together on the soil. She gathered her tattered muslin dress, streaked with dirt and pulled it over her head. She felt sluggish, the fringe of dreams tugging at her consciousness.

She tied her sash about her hips and stood, her hair was dusty, bearing grains of soil and forest debris.

Her cousin took hold of her hand and tugged her toward home and she allowed herself to be lead along the corner of the wheat field, the fragrance of Elysion wafting through the stalks alighting her senses. She lingered behind, losing their grasp on one another's hands, her cousin strode ahead nervously eager to breach the safety of home. Instead Sin's footsteps slowed and she allowed herself to revel in her brief mutiny, to show the night and its many eyes that it did not belong to _them _alone.

Sin was born on the Elysion soil, though she had never known her mother who was the same as her mother and the one before her. With hair the colour of the brown soil and the eyes as radiant as the moon but as honeyed as the wheat. All bred from the finest of slave stock.

Even the males of her kin were of a kind, broad shouldered with thick strong thighs, strong to work the fields and pull the plough for the sowing of the crops.

Sin stopped midstride.

Silence pervaded the night sudden and complete. Her lips quivered as she was gripped by icy white fear. "Cousin?" She spoke softly, too soft for him to hear for he was nowhere in sight. A sudden howl disguised the near inaudible sound of her breath.

The Hounds were in the forest.

Hounds were wolves who wore the disguises of men, they feasted on flesh and blood and mortal souls and the slaves both hated and feared them. As an animal a Hound was large, two maybe three times the size of a wolf and could never be mistaken for anything other than the kin of a god.

Her earss picked up the sound of footsteps padding like a distant army marching off beat. She broke into a run, her heart climbing into her throat until her lungs burnt and she made a zigzag path from the fields to the forestland. The emerald tangle of woodland seemed to throb with menace and then darkness descended as the trees obscured the light of the moon.

She could hear the Hounds, their heavy panting breath in her ears dictating the rhythm of her heart and her mouth was thick and inconsolable with fear.

She fell to the ground, tripping on a vine, grazing her palms and bruising her cheek. She looked up through the desperate trickle of tears to see a bolt of light flash between two trees and a Hound landed on the ground before her. The hound was one of Mercury's wolves, his coat as pale and beautiful as the moonlight.

Sin closed her eyes, her lips fluttered in soundless prayers whilst she clutched fistfuls of earth.

The Hounds were earth prowling gods, sons of Dis: the gods that swallowed the sun at night and brought with them blood and the moon.

There was silence and she looked up slowly, fearfully to find a boy of about her age standing before her.

He had a beautifully formed face, his looks were uncanny but it was his eyes that made her heart crawl into her throat. His eyes glowed like a sinking sun, his ripe mouth moved to form a word or take a breath but she was deaf. She felt as if she were falling. Dreaming…

She couldn't resist reaching for him, her fingertips hovered by his inky black hair and she could feel the warmth of him pushing against her palm. His face was close now; she could feel his breath and taste him in her mouth. Her eyelids fluttered dreamily and suddenly his mouth was on hers, soft, hot, wet speaking without words. _I know you._

Lightning struck about her, bolts sent from Jupiter's throne shimmering through her flesh and set deep into her bones. She passed into unconsciousness and when she came to the Hound's rough tongue was upon her tender cheek, his sharp teeth grazing her delicate skin and she tasted it's saliva like foul ambrosia.

"Verain." A rough voice shouted from the outer darkness and the wolf reared back with a snarl.

Sin collapsed in the dirt with the foreign taste of wolf spit in her mouth.

"What have we got here then?" The silhouette of a man stood before them, but Sin knew he was no man but a Hound in disguise, wearing his human skin and wielding a vicious barbed whip in one thick fingered hand.

Sin looked from the wolf to the man and back again and prayed silently for her soul as she faced imminent death. The man lashed his whip and the wolf snapped his teeth in warning, threatening to take the whip from him but only threatening.

The man growled at the wolf, the sound vibrating through his human throat, skin rising above his stained uneven teeth.

For an instant she felt frightened for the silver wolf, the wolf that could call the bolts of the thunder god through his mouth. His eyes were brilliantly bright and intelligent, he moved to stand between the man and the slave and then a strange sound crawled up from his animal throat. "Run."

Sin could not comprehend the voice that had spoken. The man's whip lashed out at the silver wolf, she scrambled into action, moving backward across the forestland until she found her feet and then began to sprint the familiar path toward the hearth fires of home.

The baying of the Hounds chased her as she ran.

Soon she saw the pale, gaunt features of her cousin, one arm outstretched through the dark. "Sin." Her name echoed and she tripped toward him. Sin glanced behind her, at the dark, oily forest undulating with beasts and she thought, no hoped, for an instant that she would see eyes like golden suns staring back at her.

* * *

Each stinging kiss of the switch scored a deep red welt on Sin's back, but did not break her skin. Big Sister was always oh so careful not to permanently mark her but ensure a thorough punishment. "You have Eris' poison spit in you." Big Sister's words wheezed from between clenched teeth. She brought down the lash again with less vehemence than before and Sin knew the punishment would soon come to an end.

Sin bit the tip of her tongue, tears cooling on her cheeks.

"Careful, sister. You don't wish to break her so soon before the choosing." An old woman said in passing.

Big Sister stopped in mid motion. The words spoke were sobering and she dropped the lash, her hands were visibly trembling. "Go." She said as if disgusted by the sight of the girl. "Go and clean yourself up."

The low murmur of disapproval had hummed steadily since the break of dawn, her family watched her from the corners of their eyes, their mouths set in anger.

Sin held her dress against her breasts, her back was now an erratic lattice of dark red lines, and she let her hair conceal the sight. It took her time to walk gingerly toward the water trough where she sought to cool her welts. It seemed life would resume in its tense and steady stride in the hold.

The Hold was home, a collection of squat wood structures arranged in a lose ring, with the exception of one hut set in the dark recess of the hold near the cesspit. The hold was enclosed by high wooden stakes, there was only one way to get in or out…or so the Maegesters thought.

The inside of the huts were basic, there was only enough room for them to sleep, they lay on beds of cotton and threadbare blankets. There was a well for them to drink, troughs for them to bathe and a fire pit to cook the meat left to them by the Maegesters.

The hold was made up of children, boys and girls from the ages of one to eighteen, there were older women who had not been used for breeding. There were no grown men amongst them. There were no couples and none could lay together without consent of the House.

Her family did not know what she escaped to the fields to do, they did not know she lay with her cousin or how they had come upon the joy of their first touch, their first taste, at first holding hands and then more.

There was a deep dark defiant part of her that longed to roam free.

From the corner of her eye she saw her cousin, his gaze lingered on her, and heat came to her cheeks. Her thoughts sprung to the beautiful boy, the Hound that had laid his lips on hers and the world had transformed beyond the mortal bounds.

Her stomach clenched in desire. Even as the Hound's face formed in her mind the gates of the Hold burst open. The largest of Hounds stood like a dark pillar, his expression was fierce and in one hand a barbed lash his other pointing into the midst of the slaves. "I am looking for a slave."

The slaves fell to their hands and knees, faces pressed to the dirt. Sin was poised in the likeness of her kin but her welts were throbbing fiercely, guilt and recognition making them feel as if they were protruding like beacons, signaling the attention of the Hound.

"A girl. Young. You." The large Hound strode into the thick of the slaves who were pungent with fear and sweat. He placed the tip of his whip on one young girl's head. "No. You."

Sin was trembling with the effort to stay as she was.

"You will learn to obey." He growled, the beast inside him threatening to crawl up through his throat and devour them.

She heard his footsteps, like tills ploughing the earth, punishing it, running rampant making his way through the dark haired slaves, grasping hair to stare into faces gone white with fear. He was getting closer, Sin did not attempt a glance for fear he would recognise her.

She held her breath, teeth clenched, fingers digging into the dirt beneath her. She prayed to all the gods that she knew, a brief ecstatic mantra to let her live. He was so close she could smell him, he could take up the scent of her throbbing flesh if he would but look down at her.

He passed by without a second glance. "When I find the little witch I'll-"

"Hound." Interrupted by a cold imperious voice. A new voice. A voice Sin had never heard before. It sliced through the large Hound's roiling anger like a blade. Sin was irresistibly drawn; she looked up and felt a chill ripple through her.

It was the Maegester. It had to be, the graceful stance, the beautifully made clothes and haughty lift of the chin. He was also slender but there was no mistaking his strength, his face was pale and impossibly beautiful, sensuous features and intense unforgiving eyes the colour of the dark ocean depths.

"Sorken, did I order this…" He lifted a hand to indicate the horde of shivering slave flesh. "What is going on?"

"No, my lord." The Hound, Sorken had already dropped to one knee, even then he was a large figure. "I…"

The Maegester looked out at the slaves and Sin's lip trembled as their eyes met for just an instant before she buried her face in the dirt.

"What are you doing?"

"There was a slave free in the forest, my lord."

"A slave from this Hold?" The Maegester's tone was enquiring but casual and Sin was all the more afraid for it.

"Dark hair, my lord." Sorken was as frightened of the Maegester as the slaves were of him and she could sense his trembling from a distance.

The Maegester left his horse's side and walked into the gathering of slaves. The fear was thick, near tangible, there were near unperceivable gasps as he passed. "No slave walks free in Elysion." His voice was cold.

"No, my lord." Sorken agreed immediately.

"And who among my slaves would you have taken without my permission, Hound?"

Sorken did not speak, a garble of words was stuck in his throat and Sin could feel the invisible noose of the Maegester's voice tightened around the Hound's neck. _Good_. Though her heart was beating, louder and louder it seemed.

So preoccupied with her own pulse she almost collapsed when she saw the tips of the Maegester's boots stop before her face. It was as if the rhythm of her heart had beckoned him. He moved on and she let out a relieved breath.

"You have not answered me, Hound."

"Forgive me, my lord."

"Why should I?"

Sorken still had no words.

"So which of you slaves has defied our Hound and your Maegesters?"

No one stirred.

Big Sister made a soft sound and Sin closed her eyes. Big Sister would seal her doom and see her taken as meat for the Hounds. The moment was stretched taught and unbearable, Sin almost wanted to confess.

The sound of running steps cut through some of the tension, Sin ventured another look and almost collapsed to find Mercury's wolf wearing the guise of an eerily beautiful boy standing in the Hold. If the Maegester was uncanny in his icy good looks, this Hound was his equal in fire.

His eyes flashed about the gathered, drinking in the sight of the slaves pressed to the ground, Sorken on his knees and the Maegester presiding over them all.

"Ah, Verain. Perhaps you can explain this madness?" The Maegester addressed him with fondness.

Sin put her face back in the dirt, her back still throbbing with keen awareness. Her heart sunk in despair; now two Hounds could call her out to the Maegester himself or even Big Sister need but utter a word.

"Your kin here seems to think there was a slave running wild in the forest, is this something you would know about?"

Sin felt as if all the gathered were staring at her now, she could hear Sorken's nostrils flare as he greedily sucked in the scent of human flesh, as if he could sense her guilt through her smell.

"We patrol the woodland as you bid us, Maegester and I can vouch no slave of yours runs wild in the forest." Verain's voice was firm but Sin knew it was a lie.

"I thought as much." The Maegester seemed satisfied with Verain's word.

Sorken growled and the Maegester shot him a cold look.

"What about her?" Sorken pointed blindly into the crowd.

Sin was shivering with the effort of staying on hands and knees, certain that she had been found out, certain that Sorken's thick finger was trained on her head.

"You."

She was panicked, her heart had crawled into her throat and she thought she would vomit her pulse or suffocate from it's thick beating.

"This is the one." Sin looked up, no point in hiding now to find a sister nearby seized. She looked desperately to Verain who met her stare and his eyes flared with recognition. She communicated to him without having to say the word. _I am the one. It was me._

"Well well." The Maegester walked, all rippling grace, toward the girl Sorken had held up by the hair. Whilst his tone once again was casual, there was no mistaking the danger. "Are you the creature causing all this trouble? Did you disobey me?"

"N...n…no." Came the girl's stuttering response. "Never."

"It speaks."

"This is the one, my lord." Sorken growled a fierce convicted smile on his face.

Sin watched the Maegester's pale hand flick out toward her sister and a thin red line appeared on the girl's throat. Blood began to pour and the wheezing, choking sounds of the girl desperately trying to catch her breath, it made Sin sick to her stomach.

"No slave runs wild in the forest." The Maegester's tone was unmistakable now.

Sorken dropped the corpse unceremoniously to the ground and followed the Maegester who went back to his mount. "Come, we have other business." The Maegester motioned for the Hounds to accompany him.

Verain walked alarmingly close toward Sin, she could feel his hot gaze on her bowed head and she gave an involuntary shiver. He left as the Maegester bid him and the gates closed behind them.

They were all too afraid to move at first. Sin was one of the first to raise her head and as each dark pair of eyes turned to her, she felt crippled by shame. She found Big Sister staring at her from across the yard, her gaze the harshest of all. _This is your fault_. They all said without having to say a word.

The older boys carried their sister's body away and Sin remained in the dirt as they disappeared to build a pyre.

Sin would not talk of freedom again, no, it seemed this freedom came at too high a cost.

* * *

A slender figure stood on the parapet overlooking the sloping blossom hills, the house gleamed beneath the full swathe of the moon. The fragrant breeze lifted the chiffon of her dress, the current beckoning her to take the last step to ruin.

"What are you doing, Beatrice?" Startled, the girl turned, ribbons of her dress fluttering in the wind like banners of surrender. "Come down from there." The girl moved as if in a dream, feet stepping gently onto solid ground as she had been bidden.

The Lord of Elysion stood with his face free from expression, and a boy was silhouetted at his elbow.

Lucerne wrapped a hand around her wrist and tugged her toward him. "What are you doing, Beatrice?" He asked softly enough to draw her trembling lips to speak.

"The slaves will weep and cry in the night." She replied in a sing song voice. "Their blood upon your lips, husband, their stench upon your fingertips."

He put a hand in her hair and raised her face for his inspection searching her maddening gaze for a shred of clarity. Her swollen belly pressed into his thighs and he lay a hand on the plumpness of his child growing inside her. "Speaks sense, wife."

"I have lost your child, Lucerne." Her eyes focused for an instant as she confessed.

With a growl he tugged her skirts high to expose her pale thighs and saw the stain of blood, the scent of it clinging to her skin, the remnants of his heir…his child was dead.

"My life is not worth living." She cried, tears interrupted her and she collapsed against his chest, but he made no move to take hold of her as she slid to the ground. Beatrice had lost six children, her body too weak to carry Lucerne's seed to term; the disappointment hit him like a fist.

He glared down at her as she clutched weakly at his legs.

"What will you do?" A voice asked softly from behind him.

Lucerne turned his back on his wife to meet his sister's gaze, she was flanked by her own Hound, and his mouth formed a cruel line. "See that she is taken care of, Linnea." He replied in a voice that was devoid of emotion. "Then have her removed from Elysion."

Beatrice sobbed.

"Luc." His sister stepped forward laying a gentle hand on his shoulder. "She has just lost a child."

"And I have lost my patience." He snapped, his eyes taking on the eerie light of the moon.

"Have some pity." Her tone grew warm with anger.

"I have given all I have."

"Your hands are stained." She whispered.

"It is not her blood." He said. "I had to take the life of a slave of Meridianus, I am concerned they harbour delusions of freedom and defy my edict of remaining within their quarters."

"As do we all." Linnea said and she pushed Lucerne to one side to take the weeping Beatrice to her bosom.

"You will never leave Elysion, sister." Lucerne said with a cold sneer.

"Rouse Alister, we must get her to the infirmary." Linnea said ignoring her brother's words, Beatrice's skirts were tangled above her waist and Linea could see the clots of blood falling from Beatrice's legs. She motioned for the Hounds to pick her up. "Gently." She admonished and they took more care on their way.

"You do not understand." Lucerne said causing his sister to pause before she followed. "It is not the matter of kindness to a wife but the begetting of an heir for this House."

Linnea's eyes fell on the boy Hound that had shadowed Lucerne that evening, his lovely features illumined by the moonlight, wondering at the golden hue of his magnificent eyes. "Our father never concerned himself with such things."

"His wife was a blessing to him in the making of us."

"And Lux." She reminded. The sound of their adopted brother's name made Lucerne flinch, he had always despised Lux for the threat he posed upon Lucerne's hold on the island.

"We will speak no more of him."

Linnea blushed for she had a deep affection for their adopted brother. In the first flushes of youth they had flirted and made promises, longing for freedom from the pleasant prison Elysion presented. But that was all long ago and Lux had been absent for so long.

Lucerne ruled the secrecy island absolutely, his House hosting several old families whose loyalties were bound to the long history of Elysion which once was home to a goddess.

"So what will you do? Take another wife?" Linnea asked.

"Perhaps."

"And what of Beatrice?"

He shook his head. "She will be exiled from the island and given a substantial sum for her pains."

"She is not a slave or a whore to be paid as such."

Lucerne's patience broke, he took Linnea by the throat, breathing hotly against her, his fangs came to their fullness and scraped against the pale skin. "I will have a son to rule this place when I am gone. If I have to put aside a dozen women I will do it."

Linnea rubbed the tender skin of her throat. "Maybe you're cursed." She said and spat on the floor in the path she had taken, she was the only person on the island that was not afraid of the Lord of Elysion. "Be careful Lucerne, one day, one of your women will not so easily be put away."

* * *

Updated 01/04/2012

Miss S


	2. Two Update 01 04 2012

Two

* * *

Two Years Later

A fragrant breeze punctuated the breath of Elysion and the sun slowly sunk into the sea and the torches were lit in the slave hold. A large fire had been made in the centre and the slaves had been favoured with meat and wine.

A large hog, run through on the spit and slowly being turned in the flame it's skin turning black and the sumptuous aroma swamped the air. The old women carved pieces of meat from its flank, handing it out to their eager kin. It was not often the slaves were fed meat.

Sin's long dark hair reflected the orange of the fire, her dark eyes were bright with it. "It's almost time." She murmured to her little sister who sat quietly beside her leaning into her body to absorb her warmth.

Her sister was no more than twelve, not yet come to her first blood but her features were pretty and her expression without guile and punctuated with kindness. "For what, Sin?" A clean sweet voice to match her wide brown eyes.

"The Choosing." She breathed.

Little sister looked up at her with a frown, her features obscured by a puff of smoke. The event of the Choosing was never concealed from even the youngest of slaves, though little sister being younger than Sin herself still felt herself to be immortal and did not understand the dread that preoccupied Sin.

Big Sister hissed at them as she passed by, most of her kin did not like others to mention the Choosing, as if it never haunted their lives. Each year her kin had expected and prayed for Sin to be taken and each year they were disappointed as others were taken instead.

"You have lasted fifteen springs." Little sister said with a reassuring smile. "You will be here again come tomorrow."

Sin had walked with a heavier heart the past few days, portents came from the sky and the soil speaking of dark things that were coming for her. She had prayed to the gods but the gods had not answered.

Sin had lived with the guilt of her sister's death for many years, it ticked inside her chest as powerful and vital as her own heart. She faced each task with silence, her eyes humbly set to the ground, she did not go wandering beyond the fence and did not turn her thoughts to freedom. She kept her head down, her eyes dark with the bleak knowledge that all she had to look forward to was death.

"You never go to the field, Sin." Little sister whispered.

Sin shook her head and cast her eyes to the trees above the fence line; the Hounds would be prowling the forest perimeter the thought of them made her shiver. "It's not safe."

Little sister sighed. Once it was Sin who had whispered in the dark, pushing any of her kin brave enough to slip out in the full swathe of the moon to lie in the fields of wheat. Not anymore…not ever again.

Sin lifted her eyes, peering across the flames and saw her cousin - her lover's - unmistakable silhouette. He seemed to turn his whole being away from her and she made a sigh that matched her little sister's.

Sin did not eat the meat or drink the wine, her stomach complained but she wouldn't tempt herself with the poison gifts.

Little sister was called away to serve the wine in clay cups, she gave Sin's shoulder a small squeeze.

Sin stood and walked, the others happy to ignore her as they had since that blood-soaked day, barely raising an eye, barely raising their voice to address her. She made her way to the dark recess of the Hold to stare at the moon, along with her thoughts, able to offer silent prayers to Artum and Inana and any other gods she knew of by name and deed.

There were altars to both within the Hold, they had already lay the succulent slivers of meat as an offering to them.

"It's no use, child." A rasping voice reached her ear before she had sight of the old woman. Joy stood in the shadows, back hunched her near-toothless mouth forming a smile. "It is your fate."

"You have seen it?" She asked with the merest hint of fear.

"There are many futures to be had but you can choose only one."

Sin turned her back on the woman, it was well known amongst the slaves that Joy was not to be trusted. Joy was a spy for them, in her youth she had been a slave serving in the House but was freed to return to the Hold, there was no other one among them who had the privilege before Joy.

"Get away you crazy old bitch." She growled.

Joy hissed. "Do not be so rash."

"I know your name." The woman cooed, hobbling toward her, using a crutch to aid her journey. "They call you Sin."

Sin shrugged her shoulders feigning nonchalance but she knew if the Maegester's knew she had a name she would be crucified.

"Dangerous to have names." Joy said laughing under her breath.

"You have one." Sin hissed.

Joy nodded and laughed, a rattling sound that unsettled Sin. "Indeed."

"What do you know of freedom?" Joy asked, reading something on Sin's features that never passed her lips.

"I dream…" Sin's words drifted into a small frown. Her dreams were vivid, flying fast toward the heavens where she met with her gods who whispered to her of thing beyond Elysion. They had revealed a world to her where her kind walked free, laughed and danced and were not threatened by beasts or barbed whips.

Approaching footsteps interrupted Joy's mirth. "We will talk in time, Sin." She said and shuffled into the darkness, disappearing between two shacks.

Holding herself, Sin turned to see her cousin approaching in the dark, she regarding his silhouette, he too had been changed by the years. Taller, built strong like an ox. He had no name, and had shied away from it when she would have chosen one for him. When all others had refused to venture with her he had clasped her hand and followed her into the night.

They had not spoken for two years.

His eyes were hazy with the Maegester's wine, his footsteps heavy and clumsy. He seized her by the shoulders, his thick fingers kneading her skin. "The moon is bright." He said fiercely.

She nodded but didn't speak, she could smell the wine on his breath the cursed gift of the House that overshadowed the Hold.

"You are lovely." He murmured, eyes glittering as they moved about her possessively.

"No, cousin." She said and detangled herself from his grip.

"Why, Sin?"

"It could get us both killed."

"You never cared for that before."

"Before was many years ago now."

He leant over her, his face leaning into her and she was suffocating on his breath. "Not so many."

She pushed him away.

"Or is there someone else?"

Her mind was irresistibly filled with the memory of the Hound with eyes as frightful as the sun, the sensation of the hot hard-soft wetness of his tongue. "Who?" She challenged, throwing her hands up in exasperation.

Her cousin looked away and she saw him tremble. He was frightened as if he knew his fate was soon to be sealed in the Choosing to come.

He grasped her, hands rough on her curves clutching at her with desperation. The desperation was infectious, needling beneath the soft tissues of her skin making her being all but seize with panic. "Let go of me." She hissed.

"Please, Sin." He whispered wretchedly. "You've never said no before."

"I'm saying it now." She hissed between her teeth. "Let go of me."

She pushed herself out of his hold, her dress tore between his hand. She turned, picking up the ragged end of her skirt to run, she headed toward the darkness, further toward the recess of the Hold toward the towering fence that made the Hold a fortress, but Sin still knew the old weaknesses.

She had to crawl toward the crack, large enough for a lithe person or a child to slither through. She pushed herself into the dew damp grass that lay at the foot of the tangled forest, clutching fistfuls of earth to pulls her body free.

She could hear cousin behind her, his large arm reaching through the crack trying to grasp her, his fingertips brushing her heel.

Freed she picked herself up to run, as if she could outrun her nightmares, the threat of her cousin's flesh and the Choosing looming before her. She forced her way through branches and bushes, tearing at her skin, pulling at her hair desperately trying to reach the shore, toward the lulling sea, to slip beneath the waters to be taken by the gods that swallowed the sun.

But it was too dark, she was turned around and lost, she had forgotten the slave paths through the wood and was disoriented by all that surrounded her. The silence, the darkness…

She saw a flash of silver between the trees. Her fears closed in on her. The Hounds were on the paths. She ran with them, for a time running with the silvery wolf figure until she tripped, fell, limited by her flesh, her fear, her human parts.

She fell in damp earth, beside a fallen tree limb, wrapping her arms around it as if it could protect herself from life itself.

The Hound burst from between two trees, a small yelp squeezed about between her lips and she couldn't pull herself to stand. She heard the panting breath, hot and heavy and living. Her eyes fluttered and closed and she slumped against the fallen branch, surrounding herself with the blackness of unconsciousness. The brief escape of any slave.

She felt the hot foul breath upon her face.

Her eyes flickered and in the briefest moment her vision filled with Verain's lovely features. She felt vulnerable. Throat quivering. She fainted into blackness.

* * *

With eyes as bright as suns Verain stared down at the prone figure he had come upon beyond the recesses of the slave hold. The slave was slender and small, but her hips and breasts swelled with the promise of womanhood. The length of her hair disguised her face, locks that looked inky black in the night.

He had never had the opportunity to be so close to a human and he took his time to study her, the way her body shuddered with breath, the way the wind raked through her hair and ruffled through her ragged dress.

His sight and smell was second to none, able to make out details obscured by the dark, able to taste her breath, the scent of her rising to meet him in the breeze. Using her hair, his fingertips tingling, he turned her head to reveal her face.

She was lovely, the spirit of defiance hovered about her lips, the quirk of Sylvia, the goddess moon and mother of Hounds, in her features. He knew her. Even in the passing of years he recognised her.

He dropped to his knee, leaning over her, pressing his nose close to sniff her, a familiar scent rose in his nostrils and a shaky breath passed his lips. He reached out to stroke the silky brown strands of her hair.

She had a magic that had commanded him to lay lips against her, to protect her…

Her mouth trembled and she looked as if she would wake, his hand hesitated before it would touch her skin.

He heard the approach of his kin and stood quickly to face the darkness.

"Look what Verain the Fair has found." A cruel voice drifted up from a half formed beastly throat. Two Hounds appeared to glance from him to the unconscious girl at his feet. The grey wolf stood next to a larger black wolf.

"A tasty little Meridianus girl." The black haired Hound shivered with laughter, his jaws parting for his tongue to loll, salivating at the prospect of fresh meat and something more that eluded Verain.

Verain growled, his lips peeled back from his teeth which were sharpening to match the wolf. "A runaway, to be taken back to its Hold." He said, with steel his voice and mustered his best glare to accompany his words. "The Maegester wants all Meridianus for the choosing."

"Always a stickler for the rules, eh boy?" The grey wolf now a half formed man laughed loudly. "But you have not yet tasted the wonders of virgin slave flesh." He licked his thin lips with a tongue too large for his mouth, his eyes not once leaving the slave.

"Do you think the Maegester would allow you to take this slave from under his nose?" Verain said quickly, stepping between the Hounds and the slave.

The black wolf growled low in challenge, his yellow eyes darting to Verain's face.

"You know what he did to Sorken." Verain said. "He'll do the same to us all or worse."

"Not you." The wolf man hissed, tongue slithering between needle sharp teeth. "He'd never harm you."

"Come." The black wolf said to the other and with a departing glare the Hounds committed to four paws and bounded into the dark tangle of forest.

Verain spun round to the slave at a loss as to what to do. More Hounds could come, he would have to conceal her, return her to her home. But he hesitated.

In the deep histories of the island it was said the blood of the goddess ran in the veins of the slaves of Meridianus, for the dark haired ones had made a home of the isle long before the Lamia prince and his celestial lover had claimed it for their own.

The goddess had always favoured Elysion, cavorting with the islanders but had found the grief of the passing too heavy to bear, for mortal lives were short for the immortals. So she ventured to the world and made a lover of the Lamia who were famed for their immortality and brought a prince to the island to rule.

Arun begot a bloodline of weak vampires, the blood watered down by the dark haired denizens that had looked to him as a god. It was years later he brought a Lamia consort to make a strong royal bloodline to rule Elysion but by then the goddess had departed from this world leaving only the remnants of ichor running in the veins of the dark haired people.

The girl murmured in her dreams and he wondered at the blood that ran through her. He felt something stir in the pit of his stomach, the delicate beating of a bird's wing and another shaky breath passed his lips.

He picked her up carefully; careful to touch only the fabric of her dress, her head fell against his shirt above his heart. She was light in his arms and the scent of her brought colour to his cheeks.

He felt compelled to sniff her, revel in the space between breast and neck and discover her secrets. He was to lay her down, tangled himself with her limbs and bathe his senses in her presence.

The compulsion frightened him but Hounds were not made for fear, the feeling transformed into a hot knot of anger and it was important that he remain as hard and cold as steel, like the Magaesters themselves. Staring straight ahead, with an angry glare he carried her toward the entrance of the slave Hold where the slave carts had already arrived to take the Chosen to their grim destinies.

* * *

The boat arrived as dawn brooked the horizon, spilling golden warmth over the Elysion coast. The torches were doused and spicy smoke mingled with the scent of the welcome flowers arranged across the dock, heliotropes, white roses and jasmine.

Lucerne waited as the prow of the ship pulled into the harbor.

His second, Domitian stood beside him, his lanky form shielding Lucerne from the brightness of the day. Domitian put a hand above his brow to better see the ship. "I can smell her from here." He said with a sneer.

Lucerne could smell it too, the sickly-sweet perfume clashing with the flowers and beneath that was the scent of the main land: iron and smoke. He would have her bathed before the end of the night. Elysion was largely untouched by the taint of the outside world; it had few modern conveniences and observed the old ways. Elysion had a long history.

His ancestor was among the first sons of the Mother Lamia, who she had named Arun, for it meant the dawn and he was born with eyes as radiant as the dawning sun. Arun parted from his mother's company and found refuge in the temple of a goddess of the east.

Anata had taken Arun as her lover and spirited him to the island of the dove, peacock and jasmine flowers which he named Elysion. Together they bore a noble line of Lamias. Pearl would have to learn this in time for she would have her place in ensuring the progression of that line. Anata's blood ran in the blood of all denizens of Elysion.

Domitian moved to help, the sailors calling to one another, throwing ropes to help secure the bobbing ship that held his new bride.

"Are you ready?" Linnea murmured in his ear.

Lucerne spared a cold glance at his sister, her disapproval plain on her face. "You will treat her with the respect due the Lady of Elysion."

"She is not your wife yet, brother." She hissed and he stepped away from her. Linnea had never relinquished her affection for his first wife, Beatrice. But Beatrice was gone, never again to step foot on Elysion soil.

Lucerne stepped forward as his bride to be's parasol emerged from the ship. Flanked either side by fair faced vampire youths they escorted the young woman to the solid earth. He could see the bulge at their hips, firearms, he had not often seen them but they were prohibited on the island.

It seemed Night Lord Marsigni , father of his bride to be, was being cautious. Pearl, being the youngest of his daughters and most beloved, would not go to the island alone without an armed escort. It was Lucerne's stipulation that she come alone.

Lucerne lifted his chin to inspect his new bride from a distance, she was radiant in her beauty thought she was still young, no more than thirteen years old. Whilst Beatrice had been calm and quiet, her beauty pale like the calm ripple of the twilight ocean, Pearl was golden, her fairness like flame despite her delicate features.

She moved elegantly toward him, her eyes turned down demurely. "It is an honour to meet you, Lord Lucerne." Her voice was soft and pleasing to his ear but that she had spoken without being spoken to, rankled him.

"Welcome to Elysion." She raised her dark blue eyes and stared brazenly at the harbor, her eyes first on Domitian who came to stand by Lucerne, then Linnea and finally Lucerne. Her cheeks blushed prettily, but there was a slyness about her that he was alerted to almost instantly.

The other Lords and Ladies of Elysion were standing on the shore watching the new Lady with cool eyes and closed lips.

"We are holding a feast in your honour, Lady Pearl but your entourage must not proceed any further."

"But-" She was the perfect picture of distress.

"You may choose an escort from among the slaves of Elysion, you will find their skills quite adequate."

She didn't flinch and there was a stubborn clench of her jaw, for a moment she looked as if she would cry.

Her eyes fell upon Verain and Lucerne followed her gaze. The young Hound stared with a grim expression. "Fine." She said and took his proffered arm both turning to face the denizens of Elysion.

The Lords and Ladies clapped at the pretty couple they presented.

* * *

Sin was dreaming. Dreaming of a wolf. Dreaming of a boy. Dreaming of a place made of emerald and black crystal. The dark gemstone world rose around her, and she was fearful of the darkness that baffled her senses.

She was propelled forward, running, a sudden wind forcing her onward, she fell on all fours but was not thwarted by her fall, she looked down at her hands to see them transformed. She had paws, brown fur disguised her skin and she was a wolf.

The wind was delicious raking through her fur, a world unfurled, sights and scents rising to greet her and the world was suddenly not so frightening.

It was liberating, the sensation of running, sliding, climbing the mysterious jewelled paths was like sweet ecstasy. She felt free.

Then her bare human feet met springy grass, her human self bursting through the wolf's disguise and she was moving in slow motion. "This is…" She spoke against the wind, her words swallowed by it.

"My mind."

She turned around, her movements sluggish as if she were moving through water.

Verain stood there, wind raking through his dark hair, his eyes glowing. He was beautiful and frightening. Her breath became shallow, her body reacting to the sight of him. "I don't understand." She said.

"Nor do I."

Her eyes slipped from his face to the black crystal where image moved across the surfaces, a whisper of something…memories. Verain's memories.

"You have to wake up now." His voice was hot right behind her ear.

* * *

Sin felt herself waking as if from a long dream. For an instant she thought she may be in the afterlife, her limbs felt weightless, surrounded by brightness until she was able to open her eyes and found herself trapped in a wooden cage.

She roused sluggishly and used the bars of the cage to lift herself to sit. Her forehead resting against the wood, the cool morning breeze brought her awake, her vision focused on the sight of her sisters lined up in four rows in the open space of the Hold.

All around there was shivering slave flesh.

The stewards' were inspecting the girls, raising their skirts and opening their blouses, parting their lips to look at their teeth and backsides. They restrained screams and indignant yelps behind carefully clamped lips.

"This one's awake." A Hound growled and sour breath invaded Sin's senses.

Sin shuffled to the far back of the cart, hands grasping the bars of the cage as the doors were thrown open and hands reached in to pull her roughly, trying to drag her out into the dirt. She struggled and this amplified the tension in the Hold. She heard the lick of the whip nearby and saw Sorken from the corner of her eye. She froze and the fight deserted her.

She was released by those grasping hands and collapsed to the dirt on hands and knees.

She saw the tips of the steward's boots in front of her eyes. "Stand." He commanded. She stood like a marionette whose strings were pulled sudden and taut. He pried her lips apart to see her teeth and then turned her face to one side to inspect her throat. "Where was this one found?"

"In the recess of the Hold." Someone spoke and it transformed her posture. "Sleeping where it ought not to sleep." It was Verain who had spoken, he came into her line of vision and her body trembled, her whole being was drawn toward him, the Hound who lounged at Hermes feet, who called bolts of lightning from his lips.

But that was a lie. She had fallen in the forest, to get away from…

"Is it disobedient?" The steward asked.

"It may require breaking." Verain conceded with a small nod and a scowl in Sin's direction.

Sin dropped her eyes, tumult stirred her flesh and brought the rhythm of her heart pounding in her tongue, she was reacting to the mere sight and sound of the Hound Verain but she didn't know why. She despised the Hounds as much as all slaves feared them.

"It seems one has already tried." The steward murmured taking in the sight of the scars on her back. The steward ripped open her dress exposing her breasts and raised her skirts to study her below. She couldn't bear the humiliation, her nudity was exposed before the entire Hold and the steward's cold sharp fingers prodding and inspecting her. "She is not new to the touch." The steward said.

Verain's eyes flicked toward her, his cheeks growing ruddy with anger.

"Do you permit slaves to couple without consent of the House?"

Verain shook his head, no.

"Tis a shame." The steward said and moved on.

A Hound grasped her arm and hauled her back and she found herself colliding with Sorken's broad chest and saw the cruel smile play on his lips. She suffered under the hot, bloody breath on her face and she knew as he knew and relished that she was going to die.

And yet she was relieved to finally have the years of shame, the memory of the Maegester from the House above taking her sister's life, erased. Tears fell silent and expressionless from her eyes and she closed them tight to surrender to Sorken's grip utterly.

"Wait." The steward called and motioned toward Sin. "We will take that one too. Our Lords and Ladies have many appetites"

Sorken growled low in his throat and threw Sin to the ground.

A steward's stick came down hard on the ground between them. "Careful, dog. We must handle the meat with care."

Sorken murmured something by way of apology.

The steward struck Sin in the face with the heel of the stick, blood filled her mouth and there were suddenly more hands on her, dragging her toward the cart. She tried to remain as inert as possible, finding no use in struggling now.

"I hope I find but the one disobedient slave. Should you find the man that spoiled her you have permission to crucify him." The steward said. "Let that be a lesson to all meat. Your flesh is ours to command, any such breach of our law and you shall be nailed to the cross or cut to pieces for our Hounds."

One Hound sniggered.

The slaves grew ever more still.

Sin was chucked into a cart already filled with girls of varying shapes and sizes, but she was too preoccupied to take time to study them. She lifted her eyes to catch sight of Verain, eager to see his expression, his eyes, his being but a Hound struck the bars and growled in warning for her to drop her eyes.

"We will take the dozen." The steward said. "To be transported with the utmost care to the villa."

Sin settled onto her bench and a hand sought hers, she looked up to find little sister smiling sadly up at her. Sin grasped her hand fiercely and cast her eyes over the other girls. Strange faces peered at her, a dark skinned women and a pale round figure, two blond girls who were marked with similar features, who Sin guessed were slaves from across Elysion.

Another half dozen girls were put in a second cart ahead.

"Sin." Little sister whispered and the Hound growled again.

Their hands reached out and fingers intertwined, glad to have company but sorry to have her sister chosen so early.

"Get moving." Sorken growled and the cart began to creak and tremble and come alive.

* * *

Updated 01/04/2012

Miss S


	3. Three Update 01 04 2012

Three

* * *

The path was narrow and difficult from the slave hold to the Villa. The Hounds complained of heavy carts slowing their progress whilst the stewards had their own horses saddled and rode ahead unencumbered.

Sin clutched her little sister's hand, they sat close together, her head resting upon her sister's dark head drawing comfort to allay the fear churning in her stomach.

Sin greedily eyed the rolling landscape as they headed north, she had never been so far inland before, the air had a different quality to it and undercurrents of sweet flowers mingled with other smells. They were heading steadily uphill until all she could see was the rippling tree tops and darkening blue blanket of sky.

Her eyes moved slowly over the exotic new purchases who were with them in the cart, there were six of them squeezed into the small space, two of whom had the look of well-seasoned slaves. They were two blond near-identical girls, much like Sin and her sister must have appeared to anyone who chose to notice.

More interesting than them was the ebony skinned woman whose neck and shoulders were marked with black ink and silver rings pierced her lip and ears. Her hair was twisted into small snakes and hung like an elegant mane down her back. Her nails were like claws, and painted in gold and black filigree. "What the fuck you looking at, dyke?" She snarled, bright white teeth gnashing like a predator.

"You." Sin said evenly, unafraid of the girl's baleful glare.

"Never seen a nigger before?"

Sin shook her head, no. She didin't know what a nigger was and so watched her as if she were a brand new creature. The girl mumbled beneath her breath, struggling against the steel that shackled her wrists.

"It's no use." Sin said and lifted her own wrists that had also been shackled. "There is no escape."

"No escape? Who the fuck do you think you are?"

"I am Sin." She said. "This is my sister." She lifted her clasped hands. Little Sister looked up tentatively for the first time; throughout the journey her eyes had been closed tight as if when she chose to open them she would find herself back in the familiarity of the hold.

"What is this place?" The dark skinned woman asked.

"This is Elysion." Little Sister said softly and sadly.

"What's going on?" A voice rumbled, an unconscious girl not from Elysion opened her deeply bruised eyes for the first time. She was horribly gaunt, with icy pale skin stretched tight over her sharp bones. Her cracked lips trembled and she failed to form words as her blue eyes soaked in the sight of the rickety cart and shackled women around her.

She fell unconscious again.

"It is an Island." One of the blond women spoke up and from the inflection of her voice Sin knew she was slave stock from the Eastern hold, whilst Sin's kind were settled in the South of the island. "The House of Elysion rules here and we are all their property. Those marks are they not the brand of your House?"

Evi touched her skin, fingertips playing on over her tattoos. "Fuck no." She growled fiercely.

Sin wondered at the markings herself, but had thought it may be part of the girl's exotic skin, she had not seen skin marked in such a way and was suddenly embarrassed about her ignorance and curious about the breadth of knowledge of the other slave.

The dark skinned girl raised a sharp eyebrow though her eyes remained on Sin. "I'm Amevi, for what it's worth."

"Amevi?" Little sister asked. "What does it mean?" For the meaning of a name was important to slaves who courted notions of bestowing a name upon themselves.

"Are you serious? I got no idea. But people call me Evi, one letter away from evil, know what I mean?"

There was a loud thudding from the top of the cart accompanied by a gruff and unkind voice. "Stop your talking."

Sin and little sister were both dually subdued, Sin clutched her sister, pressing her small warm body closer to her thigh as if she could conceal the girl from the wrath of the Hound sitting above them.

"Fuck you, you fucking creep." Amevi growled at the ceiling.

The tip of a dagger was thrust through the wicker top and the girls beneath screamed. "Quiet down." The Hound's demand crawled up from an animal throat.

Sin shook her head at Evi. "You do not want to rouse their displeasure." She whispered. "They are true beasts who can rip your heart from your chest or worse."

"What could be worse?"

Sin smiled in a sad sort of way. "They could let you live."

The cart came to an abrupt halt. They waited tensely as the cart shivered and rocked, the Hound climbed down from his perch and landed heavily on the ground. His shadow spilt through the bars of their cage and he wrenched open the door to expose them to his horrible visage.

His face was already half formed into that of a beast, saliva dripping from his monstrous jaws and his voice rumbled passed his lips. "You stop your whispers and talking or-"

The foreign captors dissolved in high pitched panic squeals of abject terror, the cart filled with the scent of urine and even Evi who had been so fierce gave a shout of fright. The slaves alone were calm, merely keeping their eyes away from the Hound's face.

"Oh shut your god forsaken mouths." The Hound shut the door impatiently, clamped it and resumed his perch at the top of the cart.

"What was that?" Evi asked.

"A Hound." A blond slave replied dully.

"A fucking man dog?"

"No, a Hound." Little sister said irritated now for she wanted their journey to pass peaceably.

"A wolf who can disguise himself as a man, an eater of flesh." The blond girl explained.

"A werewolf?"

They all shrugged having never heard of a werewolf.

"Do you have a name?" Sin asked the blond.

"There are no names amongst slaves." The bold one lifted her pale eyes and bared her teeth in a hiss. "You are foolish for thinking otherwise."

"I know." Sin conceded thinking back to her sister's death, the pain and surprise on her face as her throat was slit.

"And yet you still proudly parade your silly name." The girl hissed in disgust.

Sin shrugged. "At one time I dreamt of freedom." The blond slave laughed bitterly beneath her breath whilst her twin's expression never flickered. "I know now that it never had existed."

"What are you all blabbering about?" Evi asked. "Slaves? This isn't the 1800s. Freedom is a god given right."

"And what god bestows such a gift upon all men?" Sin asked. "None that I pray to it seems."

"You still pray like a child?" The blond sneered.

"I honour what I know."

"Then you know little. There are no gods, there is just flesh, blood, soil and the Hound's teeth."

Little sister was crying now and Sin wrapped her tighter still in her arms. She didn't like the Eastern slaves who spoke with cruel mouths.

"And you would fair best if you would keep your mouth shut, nigger." The blonde turned her baleful stare on Evi who grew instantly furious.

"No you didn't just call me a-" Sin watched with fascination as Evi drew back her right arm, fingers forming a fist and punched the blond square in the jaw, even as cramped as they were Evi launched herself toward the girl grabbing fistfuls of hair and pulling hard.

There were more growls from above and the gaunt girl who had passed out moments ago opened her eyes a fraction, her lips resumed their shiver and a word exhaled passed her lips. "Please." Evi seemed to slump, a slight tremble in her body as the echo of the Hound's voice drifted from above.

Evi resumed her seat muttering beneath her breath.

"Never mind her, little sister." Sin whispered straight to her sister's ear. Her eyes moved to the blond who was glaring at them both. "I could give you a name. It would be Dolor." She looked at Evi. "It means misery in the old tongue."

The cart came to another stop and they all froze.

Sin strained her ears but could only hear the muffled buzz of voices, the superior tone of a steward reasoning with a Hound. The smell of jasmine was unmistakable, she hadn't often had the pleasure of such a scent. It was the scent of the House.

"No use in being frightened, I can tell you what's to come." Dolor said wiping blood from her lip and tears streaming in mourning for the loss of her hair which lay at her feet. "We're all going to die."

* * *

Elysion darkness was thick and unforgiving, only the pale light of the moon offered dim relief in the cramped slave cart. The intimate space only seemed to become smaller over the hours the slaves were stalled on the mountainside.

Little Sister's head was heavy on Sin's thigh, she slept, peaceful breaths passed her lips and dreams fluttered on her eyelids. Sin cast her eyes around, the Elysion slaves were sleeping, heads leant together, content. The pale, dark haired outside slave hadn't woken at all since her fainting spell; only Evi was still awake her head leant back against the wooden bars, her eyes half hooded, staring straight ahead.

Dolor's words washed over Sin. _We're all going to die._ The finite years of their lives were sure to bring death but that was of lesser consequence than the manner in which they died. Over the years Sin had watched the old ones die, and then her sister's life had been severed long before her time as the Maegester's blade whispered across her throat.

She could not imagine what the House above had in store for them.

How could the slaves who dallied in squalor serve the bright beings above? Would they demand her prayers? Would they feed her to the needle teeth of the night time beasts? She shuddered.

Her eyes moved over Evi's tattooed skin. "Are they the marks of your tribe?" Sin asked softly.

Evi glanced down at her dark forearm where a fish was etched into her skin, dim light barely shone on the orange-golden scales, its body thick and twisting strangely, whiskers at its mouth. It was posed purposefully to swim up her arm. "It's a koi." Evi replied, indulging Sin's curiosity.

"Where does it swim to?"

"Up the waterfall to the dragon gates where it will transform into…" Evi turned and lifted her shirt to show the serpentine creature covering her whole back. "A dragon."

Sin stared at her in wonder. "They can do such things on the mainland? Make a canvass of your skin?" She wanted to reach out and touch it but dared not to.

Evi's head lolled but she didn't reply, her slender dark shoulders began to shake, a strangled, sobbing sound erupted from her mouth. "Those fucking ass holes drugged me. They tied me up to a fucking mattress and dosed me up until I didn't know my arse from my elbow. They should never have got the drop on me."

Sin didn't understand all of what Evi said but she was fascinated by the dark skinned woman who was crumbling before her very eyes.

"Who the fuck are you people?" Evi snarled.

Sin looked at her sympathetically. Were the Lords and Ladies so terrible that they would take a woman from her own home to come to Elysion? When Sin had been a child she had been told that to be chosen was an honour, but as she had grown she learnt to fear the Choosing for rumours flew thick and fast of the horrible ways in which a slave might die at the end of a tooth or claw.

In a matter of moments Evi passed into an exhausted sleep for which Sin was glad. She eased little sister's head from her thigh to sit up and stretch her stiff and aching muscles. She inched toward the rear of the car and curled her fingers around the bars to peer out into the dark.

The cart had stopped more than halfway up the mountain, on one side there was rock and the other a vast canopy of emerald green, reminiscent of her dream scape.

She closed her eyes to imagine she were a bird, what a wonder it would be to launch herself off the edge and fly free, buffered by the winds, watching the moonlight play over the green of the trees, toward the crystal hues of the ocean beyond.

When she opened her eyes she was still stuck behind the wooden bars, the darkness now thick and alien and a trickle of fear ran down her spine. A shadow slithered in the periphery of her vision, something was slinking in the dark and she jumped back in fright the car rocking slightly.

"Shhh." Someone hissed from the dark.

Vearin appeared in the moonlight, the silvery glow made him appear ethereal, like a being that walked from her dreams and now stood in the flesh.

She stole a glance at the girls behind her, fearful that she had woken them but they were all still, exhaustion had firmly claimed each of them. "You'll be caught." She whispered fearfully.

He continued to stare, an unnerving expression on his face, his eyes glowing like hot embers.

"Why are you here?" She asked.

"I don't know." He confessed, and she was relieved to hear him speak. She flushed with pleasure at his voice, the attention he paid her, the way he stared. She sagged against the bars, resisting the temptation to reach through them and touch him.

Making a growl low in his throat he turned his back on her as if he were going to walk away but he hesitated. He paced back and forth in indecision, the frustration clear on his features and she watched, enrapt by the sight of him, his supple rippling muscles moving beneath his clothes, thinking of the Hound he could become at will.

He strode toward her again; he braced his hands on either side of the cart and leaned forward, close enough for their breath to mingle. "Who are you?" He asked.

She shook her head vaguely, ensorcelled by the taste of his breath, the sight of him so close. "Thank you." She said rather than make a reply to his question. "For saving me."

"I should have taken your life where I found you." He said. She knew it was not to be cruel, she reared back to sit in the shadows and as she uncurled her fingers from the bars, her hand brushed his and a jolt of electricity passed between them.

For a terrifying instant it opened a link between them but as soon as it had come it went, as Verain snatched his hand back. The black green crystal tunnel receded from her vision and she was left in the cold and dark, shivering and bereft of his presence.

Verain was glaring at her.

Her lips trembled, she wanted to lurch forward and grasp him but the shouts of the slavers in the distance distracted them both. She slipped back against the bodies of the sleeping slaves, out of the field of vision of the slavers and Hounds whose footsteps grew louder and louder. The cart rocked as someone mounted the carriage, the horses stirring to life with muffled snorts.

Her eyes remained on the gleaming figure of Verain as he quietly slipped farther away into the darkness and when she could see him no more, her heart beat resume a normal rhythm, she tucked herself beside her sister; the cart rocked back to life and they continued their ascent.

* * *

Updated 01/04/2012

Miss S


	4. Four Update 01 04 2012

Four

* * *

The villa was large and luxurious next to the mud and sticks that made up the Hold. Sin's eyes grew large trying to consume the detail of ornately carved stone and the different shades of wood latticed into intricate patterns, sandstone slate and glossy tiles. The whole world seemed crafted from a dream.

There was a large willow tree in the courtyard and torches lined at intervals along the outer wall. On the gates was a golden seal of the Phenix and Sin crossed her chest superstitiously for the Phenix cry was the harbinger of death.

The slaves were queued according to their appearance, both height and colouring: Dolor and her quiet companion at the front, Sin and little sister amongst the middling slaves and Evi and the other main land accruements were placed at the end.

There were Hounds to greet them at the gate, closed mouth and cruel eyed, they fastened heavy metal collars about the slaves' throats. The metal burned and itched against Sin's skin, it forced her head to come straight and lift her chin for the weight that bore down on her shoulders caused her to hunch ever so slightly.

The stewards had dismounted from their horses and were already walking toward the entrance to stand before a small stone fountain decorated with elaborately carved salamanders, but the fountain bore no water.

Sin could feel the Hound's eyes on the back of her head, a prickling sensation of its own.

The steward who had inspected Sin approached them first; his hair, as long as any woman's sat in a perfectly unruffled honey blond curtain at his back. He paced slowly back and forth in front of them, his intelligent brown eyes moving carefully over each girl, assessing them.

"I am Maegester Arin and this is Maegester Danüs." He motioned to the dark haired steward who remained by the fountain. "Our voices deliver the word of the Lords and Ladies of this House, and you will obey."

Maegester Arin's voice was cold but he spoke calmly and the sound drew Sin's eyes to study his face. He was younger than she had first thought for his face was smooth and hairless but there was a deep knowledge and weariness about his eyes that spoke of age.

"This will be your home for a time, we find it is a convenient preparation house for all slaves." He continued his march, up and down, up and down. "You will be well maintained here for your purpose. Some of you may go on to serve in the House above and some will not." His eyes on Sin at that moment, she lowered her head using her hair to conceal her face.

"Ah, here is Maistresse Ankti."

Sin's eyes rolled to the side and saw a tall silhouette against the sun, Ankti was indeed tall and her skin was brown, even darker than Sin's tribe who were darker than Dolor's. "She will instruct you in your services here. You will address her as Maistresse or Maistresse Ankti as she desires."

Ankti had a lash in her hands of which Sin could see the cruel strands swaying just above the dusty ground, her eyes moved to the woman's thick strong ankles and then the swell of her thighs, she was built as strong as a man, muscles defined her legs and arms. Her black hair was braided neat and long, snapping around her like a cat-of-nine tails.

"Thank you." She nodded to Arin. "You have all been Chosen this day to serve your Maegesters in a higher capacity. For many your hard efforts here will be rewarded with service in the House, for others, you will have but a taste of glories never to be yours. You will sleep in the villa and do duties as instructed by myself and our good stewards. You are not to speak unless spoken to or move without being bidden." She looked to Arin. "Is this understood?"

Arin struck his staff to the ground and all grew stiff backed.

"It is understood, Maistresse Ankti."

"You." Ankti stepped up to Dolor and put the hilt of her whip under the girls chin to lift her face to the light. "Who bloodied you?"

"The new purchase, Maistresse." Dolor answered deliberately loud.

"Why?"

"She did not like it when I called her nigger."

"Where did you learn such a word?"

"In the cart, Maistresse, the girl called herself such."

Maistresse Ankti moved up the line of shivering slave flesh to the end where Evi stood tall almost of the same height, Evi glared into the Maistresse' face without hint of fear or remorse. "You."

Evi sneered and Ankti responded by striking her face with the hilt of her whip. Evi doubled over with shock, the other slaves held a collective breath and only released it when Evi straightened up and faced Ankti with a broad grin.

"You are going to be trouble." Ankti said with a peculiar kind of sensitivity. "Kindly escort this one to the atrium and I will be along shortly to mete out its punishment."

"You can't hurt me you sly old cunt. I'll kill you. I'll kill you all." Hounds came forward, grasping Evi's limbs, a hand clamped over her mouth to dull her screams as they dragged her away.

"There will be no violence amongst you, no words exchanged or else you will receive punishments liken to that one over there."

"What about that one?" Sorken asked pointing at Sin.

"What of it?" Ankti asked.

Arin whispered in her ear and Ankti looked at Sin. "Well, well, well."

Ankti stepped up to the girl using the whip she forced her chin up, as she had done with Dolor, to look into her eyes. Sin saw perfect black eyes, depthless and full of unspeakable evil and knew she would be a fool to disobey this woman.

"You have been a busy little slave." Ankti put her lips on Sin's. "There will be no time for dalliance under my care."

Ankti stood back to address them all. "There will be no coupling, no cavorting with any males nor amongst yourselves. You have not been Chosen to breed and you shall have no such privileges."

The island slaves looked perplexed but Sin blushed wildly thinking of how Arin's hands had been over her body, inside her body whilst he inspected her in the Hold.

"Sorken, would you be so kind as to escort the slaves to the atrium, there is a lesson to be learned by us all."

They were marched inside the villa, making slow progress for the slaves did not know how to move in tandem. Sin found the scent of Jasmine was strong within the gates, and if she could have looked up she would have found that the villa stood in the shadow of the House and the grounds around the building were blanketed in night blooming jasmine.

As they were lead into the atrium, Sin was aware of the scent of food and warmth escaping from half open doors and her stomach protested for she had not eaten for more than a day.

"Look upon it, you slaves." Ankti said using her whip to direct their eyes toward Evi whose shackled wrists had been tied to a large wooden crucifix.

It cast a long shadow across the atrium and Evi upon it was a horrific sight. Sin could taste the climbing rhythm of her own heart as Evi's mouth hung open in a silent scream, blood matted her hair and stained the tepid water rippling in the shallow pool beneath the cross. She could hear little sister gasp and Sin sought out her hand, squeezing her fingers.

"For each disobedience you will find yourself hung beneath the noon sun." Ankti said calmly. "For each persisting disobedience you will find the bite of my whip."

"You are not in a world of comfort and luxury now despite appearances for some. This is Elysion and you all must learn that you are but meat for your Maegesters." Ankti struck her whip against the floor tiles. "Do you understand?"

A shuddering breath passed Evi's lips and the girl raised her head with visible effort. Her face swollen with bruises and seeping cuts, she bared her straight white teeth. "Fuck you."

* * *

Pearl watched with the eyes of a glutton, drinking in all that would be hers, from the sumptuous silks that hung the inside of the carriage, the silver and gold filigree of its handles, the gleaming spires of the house, the emerald gleam of the canopy of trees, the strong scent of jasmine flowers.

The path was smooth despite its rough appearance. There were no roads in Elysion, it seemed.

"It's very beautiful." She said trying to catch the attention of Lady Linnea who sat beside her with her face turned to the window. Linnea's whole body was turned away, taking no interest in her new sister-in-law to be not even a sound to acknowledge her presence.

Pearl had expected the Ladies to be jealous of her; she was after all young and an incomparable beauty, her father had often told her so. They would covet her expensive wardrobe and talk snidely behind her back because that was what Pearl was used to.

Her eyes moved to the window which Linnea stared out of and saw a rickety wooden cart, she had to squint to make out the forms of male slaves, their well-muscled bodies bronzed by the sun. "Impressive." She said.

Linnea glanced at her with a raised brow.

"Did your father not keep slaves?"

Pearl felt a warmth rush her cheeks. "Well…we didn't….I mean, he never…"

Linnea made a careless gesture with her hand. "It has said Elysion has a stock like no other."

Pearl pouted, put out that she was not able to defend her father. He did not keep slaves, slaves of course were not permitted in the modern world, the Council itself had prohibited it on the main land so as not to rouse suspicion from the human authorities. Elysion had no such worries.

"Where are they going?"

"To the field." Linnea said and then with an exasperated sigh. "To pull the ploughs to plant the seed."

They took a sharply sloping path and the higher they went the sweeter the scent of the island. The more they progressed the more Pearl realised how different her life would be, she would be transformed into something more akin to a Queen. The pleasure at the thought of being a Queen turned her lips into a smile.

The cart came to a sudden stop and she lurched forward. Linnea stepped swiftly out of the carriage, Pearl felt the flutter of hesitation, her hand reaching for the carriage door but it swung open and she found Lucerne waiting for her with a cool expression. She took his icy hand and helped her onto the path.

She looked about her, beautifully kept hedges and white petal flowers added to the mystic beauty of the house…it was more a castle than a house…"Do you approve?"

Pearl could hear the warmth of displeasure in his voice and raised her head. "It's lovely."

Lucerne forced a smile to his lips though it never reached his eyes. "You must be exhausted from your journey. Verain will take you to your chambers."

She turned and saw the boy from the harbour, his features were lovely and he appeared only a little older than herself. He gave Lucerne a curt nod and offered Pearl his arm, she didn't hesitate to perch her fingers elegantly on him.

She felt the warmth through his sleeve and the smell of him filled her nostrils, she recognised the scent with a burgeoning frown. She turned her nose up in the air, glaring at him from the corner of her eye. "So Lucerne likes to keep dogs?"

"And bitches." He shot back.

Pearl met his stare, though they continued as if the exchange hadn't happened. "Where are you taking me?" She tried to steel her voice.

"To your room, my Lady."

"What about the feast?" She asked glancing behind her shoulder, trying to catch sight of Lucerne or Linnea.

"The feast is in the feasting hall."

"I want to go to the feast." She said imperiously, her grip tightening on his arm.

"The Maegester wants you in your room." He said through his teeth.

She bit her lip, confounded by the whole thing, surely she should be present at her own welcome feast? She took time to look at the house, it was cool inside, almost cold, there were no electric lights…no heating…just the spicy scent of hearth fires and candlewax.

He took her up stair cases, past tapestries picturing beautiful women and the blue shades of great oceans. It was enchanting and yet her heart continued with its uneasy fluttering.

Verain opened a set of doors, lilac flowers were delicately engraved on the front. She paused before the threshold. "What's your name?" She asked.

He met her eyes, his iris were golden and intense and she struggled not to look away. "Verain."

"I want you to be my personal guard, Verain." She said.

A dark eyebrow rose. "You must speak with the Maegester." Was all he said and he gave a low mocking bow. "My Lady." He turned and left.

She was surprised to have been given her own room instead of being taken to the marriage bed. The room was sparsely decorated but there was an exquisite tapestry of the shore of Elysion, a beautiful bronze skinned woman with long dark curls and large brown eyes. She was nude, decorated only by the cresting foam of waves depicted in bright and deep blue threads.

The woman's beauty was so very unlike her own.

She turned her back on it, finding her belongings spread around the four poster bed, her trunk filled with saris and chitons and ball gowns already open. She had brought her own perfumes and ornaments, even a hair dryer but that would be useless here.

She was thirteen and had come upon her womanly blood only a year ago, she remembered how she had begged her father to marry, her father who loved her best and spoilt her too much. It wasn't unusual for the Lamia to marry young; she had sisters who had been given away when they were much younger.

Pearl perched on the edge of her new bed, could smell the goosefeathers that plumped the mattress, a sparkling set of jewels adorned the bed spread, the stones cool beneath her fingertips.

"Do you like them?" Lucerned asked startling her.

She stood quickly, her cheeks warm. "I didn't know you were here."

He moved from the outer shadows, stalking like an elegant and dangerous beast, he was tall and all slender muscles, his pale skin gleamed like moonstone in the lamplight. She could not deny his beauty, a beauty carved in ice but a feeling came of her, a trembling kind of panic. Though Lucerne appeared young, she knew he was old, far older.

Despite being enamoured with the thought of being the great queen of a secret kingdom, knowing her name would be whispered in the same breath of the patron goddess of the island, a siren whose beauty would be hanging in tapestries and whispered on the main land, she was afraid.

"I hope you find your dwelling comfortable."

"It's fine." She lied. It was far too cold, not that she was affected by such things but it had none of the opulence of her father's house.

Lucerne stepped so close she swayed at the proximity, with icy fingertips he took her chin and angled her face for inspection. She tried to remove herself from his grasp but it was like a vice and it only became more painful to resist. "There's no need to lie to me, Pearl." He said, his voice soft, almost romantic. "Do you like the necklace?"

"I do." She said through her teeth.

"They belonged to the last wife of mine." He said and she sensed no residual fondness for his last wife. "You will be the Lady of Elysion by the next moon and all that was once hers will be yours."

He released her and she fell back bust mustered enough pride to glare.

"Do you know why you have been brought here, Pearl?"

She turned her back on him, tangling her fingers in the bedspread, refusing to let him see the shiver of her features. She was afraid: she wasn't used to being handled roughly or spoken to in such a way. "I am to be your wife."

"Yes." He said a smile in his voice. "You are to be my wife and you are to bear my heirs."

She spun around, dazzled at his brazen words. She had heard rumours of his last wife, a poorly little creature who could not give him a son. Pearl had seen her once, the dark haired girl had been shivering and was sickly pale, the rumour said she was mad, perhaps even driven to it by Lucerne.

It was as if Lucerne could read her thoughts he rushed toward her, she was forced to sidle back on the bed, his hands threw up her voluminous skirts, exposing her pale thighs. He slipped one hand between her legs fingers questing to her private parts.

He withdrew as quickly as he had come upon her; he lifted his fingers to his nostrils and smiled.

"How dare you." She hissed and raised a hand to strike his face but he caught her wrist with ease.

"Just one moon." He said. "Just one."

Tears rolled down her cheeks, she was still a virgin and could not begin to anticipate the pain, fear prickled in her to think of Lucerne and his cold cruel hands.

"You will not disappoint me." He said pointedly and turned and left

She heard the door lock.

* * *

Sin lay on the bunk she had been given, real feather matted beneath a linen sheet and another sheet to serve as a blanket to ward off the draft. Her head lay on her arm and her eyes remained open in the dark staring at the back of Evi's head.

Evi's body trembled with both pain and tears, the fight had deserted her body. Sin watched the blood seep from the wounds on her back.

"Are you asleep?" Little sister asked with a voice shivering and emotional. "What will they do with us now?"

"Shhh." Someone hissed in the dark.

"I don't want to die." Little sister whispered fiercely.

She was numb, far removed from the fear that took hold of her sister and she had no idea what to do. "Pray." She whispered and listened to the lull of her sister's prayers.

Dolor's cot was at the foot of hers and Sin saw that she too was awake. "There's no use in praying." The blond girl's lips fluttered in the dark. "The gods are dead."

"What makes you an authority on the gods?" Sin asked.

"They have never answered my prayers."

"Perhaps you were praying for the wrong things."

"Have you not heard a word Maistresse Ankti has spoken?" Dolor said from between clenched teeth. "We are meat, Sin and slaves have no need for prayers or freedom or rebellion. Look at what disobedience rewards you with."

They all looked at Evi's shivering body.

"She was lucky the Hounds had not been set upon her. Have you seen that before, Sin? Have you ever seen a sister or a brother torn apart by a Hound, limbs wrenched from sockets and flesh ground to naught but blood and dirt?"

Sin shivered at the thought but shook her head, no but the image of her sister's open throat haunted her still.

"I don't think even Jesus can save us now." The girl with the deeply bruised eyes voice rose to interrupt them. She sat up, putting hands in her sweat clotted strands of brown hair. "I prayed that this was just a dream and I would wake up in my apartment. They came at night." Her voice was trembling now, tears rolling down her skeletal cheeks. "I was just getting milk…for the baby but…"

Sin's mouth formed a frown. The girl had a baby.

"What's your name?"

"Inez."

Sin would pray for Inez and the child that had been left behind.

"You must stop your prayers and be done with your cursed names. We have all had our lesson today." Dolor hissed and drew her bed clothes over her head.

Little sister stubbornly continued her prayers and Sin joined her in a lulling chorus, praying for life, for the slaves, for her home, for Inez and her little baby. She prayed until they had all passed into sleep.

* * *

Sin woke up in the night with a start as if she had felt icy hands upon her throat. She turned her head from side to side, eyes slowly becoming accustomed to the dark she noted Evi lay awake too. The girl's features were molded into sad lines, her eyes staring into nothingness, lost in thought.

Sin sat up, drawing knees to her chest and wrapped arms around he legs, she stared at Evi, making out the play of light across her lovely face, high cheekbones and shining eyes. "Where did you come from?" She asked in a whisper.

Evi didn't respond at first but Sin had the grace to wait. "New York." The words rasped from between her generous lips.

"What was it like?"

Evi turned to face her. "Noisy. Fast." Sin tried to imagine as Evi whispered words into the night. Tales of a extraordinary city of iron, smoke and steel. A place that sounded as terrible as it was wonderful. Evi spoke of light that blotted the beauty of the heavens and such freedoms that a human had not had on Elysion for a long time.

Sin could never truly grasp all of what was said for she was cut from Elysion flesh and didn't know the electric touch of the modern world.

Evi soon succumbed to her exhaustion, the tears that had possessed her whole body pacified and she passed into sleep. Still awake, Sin was content to listen to the sounds of the villa, the creaking, beating and breathing of this strange new place.

She knew that slaves were trained by night too, she could hear them moving, and she could hear the rumble of Ankti's voice and the snap of her whip; and then a light appeared in the hall, the glow coming from beneath the door of their room. A shadow moved across, making blades of the light. Sin quickly slunk down into the bed, pulling her covers high over her head.

Someone entered the room. Their footsteps were light, almost undetectable but she could feel the presence, something icy and oily moving over her making her flesh crawl.

The sensation of icy fingertips on her heel, sliding up her calf made her bight her lip to stop the shock and whimper.

As soon as it was there it stopped and she heard the abrupt sound of the person moving away, their footsteps a mere whisper. She opened her eyes to slim cracks and caught the sight of one of the stewards silhouetted against the light from the hall. When the door closed she released a breath she hadn't been aware she'd been holding.

She curled herself into a foetal ball and closed her eyes willing herself into sleep and when it came the sight of great metal cities rose in her imagination but those images soon dissolved, succumbing to the irresistible and familiar world of Elysion.

* * *

Updated 01/04/2012

Miss S


	5. Five Update 01 04 2012

Five

* * *

Sin was cold. It was the kind of cold that penetrated her bones and her psyche and she was slowly turning mad as a consequence.

The corners of her eyes were preoccupied by phantoms, silver flashes between the distant pillars of the villa, the sound of prowling beasts in the outer darkness and the feel of hot and icy breath grazing her skin. She had been standing for so long she had watched the sun set and begin to rise.

Her vision was blurred, her limbs were seized by a pronounced trembling and she began to sway back and forth. Her shoulders had long since become numb with the weight of the steel collar.

She had been standing for a day.

The girls had been woken before the dawn light, exhausted and disoriented they got to their feet. Beige raw silk tunics were thrown at them to replace their other clothes, the fabric exposed the expanse of their backs and cut off at the knee, it bore too much flesh and they had to help each other dress, tying knots here and there to conceal their modesty.

Sin helped Amevi with her dress, careful of the welts on her back, knowing what it was to be whipped. "Thanks." Amevi's voice was raspy and her eyes were red raw from weeping throughout the night. Sin lay a small kiss on Amevi's lips to say without saying that she was not alone.

The girls were marched into the atrium where the steward Danüs was waiting for them. He wore a long red robe, his hair loose and flowing around his slender shoulders, his expression was stern, his grey eyes hard and unforgiving.

Sin was distracted as they passed by the cross; it was stained with blood old and new and cast a long bleak shadow across the square. She wondered how many girls had hung from it and couldn't resist glancing back at Evi who stiffened as she passed through the shadow of it.

All the slaves trembled with the uncertainty of what lay before them. "You." Danüs pointed at Sin's little sister. "And the both of you." Dolor and her kin. "Follow me."

Danüs' eyes lingered on Sin for a moment but he did not call her to join the other.

"Follow me." He said again and led the three girls out of the atrium into a dimly lit corridor. Sin's heart climbed into her throat, fearing for her sister as she disappeared from sight and then fearing for herself as she was left without someone familiar beside her.

Suddenly Evi grasped Sin's hand, digging broken nails into the flesh of her palm causing Sin to hiss in pain and she stared at Evi sharply but she responded with a warning shake of her head. Inez remained sad and silent, a slender hunched figure, arms wrapped around herself to ward off the early morning chill.

They looked around the square, the trickle of water from the lion headed fountain was their only company.

Evi and Inez could not know, as Sin did, that Hounds paced in the dark beyond their sight. Ever watchful.

The girls were soon joined by other girls, bearing the collars of slaves, there were two identical tall and slender blond girls followed by a diminutive red-headed girl who had a large red bird emblazoned across her shoulders in ink. They were incredibly still and silent, their expression as smooth as statues.

Maistresse Ankti strode into the new light of the rising sun; she looked stunning, like Artum hunting in the sacred grove. She had her whip in one hand, running the ribbons through her long dark fingers, her shrewd eyes evaluating each of them in turn.

Sin's eyes were on the whip, and she wondered how many backs it had bitten or how many slaves it had hastened to greet the afterlife.

Ankti's eyes moved over them again, her stare was without hint of compassion, her lips pursed and her head shook back and forth in unspoken disapproval. "Stand." She commanded.

Sin was confused for she was already standing, she looked at Evi, Inez and then at the other nameless girls. The other girls fell into position, their heads bowed, their hands laced in front of them placed against their stomachs, and their ankles pressed together. They didn't move at all.

"See it?" Ankti asked her. "Do it. It is how a slave is called to stand."

Sin did as she was told and though her head was bowed her eyes were open and she watched Ankti's shadow move back and forth over the tiles whilst the slave simply stood. There were no further instructions and Sin was startled when she saw Ankti's shadow retreat and did not return to continue pacing.

It took her some time to understand that this was their task. To stand. It was difficult.

She could not stop her body from swaying back and forth, her calves burned and her mind wandered. It didn't take long for the tremble to start in her limbs, her stomach was painfully empty and it began to cramp and growl whilst her throat thickened with the want of libation.

Once she tried to catch the attention of the girl beside her, one of the nameless twins who had been standing without having moved an inch. The girl easily ignored her and Sin dared not raise her voice to speak, just in case Ankti was watching from a secret place.

The sun had risen high and the glaring heat beat down on Sin's dark head and her scalp began to itch, her skin was burning but still she could not move for fear of the punishment.

Evi was the first to collapse. Sin was soft enough to bend to help her, glad to move out of her pose, relief singing through her arms and legs. Evi erupted into expletives, gasping for breath and clutching at her thighs.

Ankti's whip appeared before she did and Sin felt the sting of a hook catching her own shoulder, drawing blood.

Inez broke out into a roar of tears and Ankti lashed at her too, Evi forgotten. Sin grasped her lightly bleeding shoulder, staring up at Ankti as the woman raised the lash above her head, their gazes locked. Ankti's teeth were clenched with fury and a bead of sweat formed upon her brow; her arm trembled with the effort not to bring down the lash on all three girls. Eventually she lowered her arm and composed herself. "Take those two away." Ankti said and Sin watched as Hounds materialised to drag Evi and Inez into the villa.

"Get back in line." Ankti growled and Sin resumed her position without any resistance.

It wasn't long after that she wanted to collapse too. As the sun began to fall, her mind passed from prayers into useless thought and soon she was drowsing. She came alert as the echo of a scream flew down the corridors, there was a shuffling from within the villa and Sin was left to wonder hard about who bore the brunt of the punishment.

Still she stood. Even as the moon shone high and ripe, she lifted her head to stare, it broke the spell of her thoughts and she felt sick with the smell of jasmine.

"Drink." Ankti barked, having materialised from the dark. The three more seasoned slaves left calmly in pursuit of water. "You." Ankti said using the heel of her whip to lift Sin's chin and forced their eyes to meet, Sin saw desolation in the woman's gaze but did not balk.

"You did not think I had forgotten about you?" A cruel smile quirked her succulent lips. "Fucking around like a beast with your own kin. Even you must know that is forbidden."

Sin trembled and her eyes closed, cheeks blushing prettily with shame.

"You are no good for this House."

Sin was momentarily distracted by the sliver of silver in the outer darkness, she fancied she heard the howl of Hounds and it seemed to break her and she collapsed to her knees, her hands catching her on the cool tiles. She was panting and weary and her body was stiff and unable to co-operate as she struggled to stand but could not.

She heard the lash and saw the spikes of Ankti's weapon hovering by her cheek. "I will be watching you." The woman said.

Danüs appeared, having come upon them silently, his eyes moving deliberately slow over Sin. "It lasted longer than most." He commented.

Sin lowered herself to the ground, rolling onto her back to stare brazenly up at the man and woman, whilst her head spun with hunger and exhaustion. Danüs long dark hair was tied back and his cold grey eyes filled her vision and she felt loathing as a nasty smile twisted his lips.

"It is fodder for the field or the hunt." Ankti spoke as if Sin could not comprehend her words. "Perhaps they will send it to the Hound's Den."

"It must be trained with the rest." Danüs said with a sigh. "You will break it in time, no doubt. You are a prodigious slave master, Ankti."

"Hmpf." Ankti folded her arms across her chest. "Why would I wish to waste time training it in the art of service if it is to be destroyed in the hunt? Seems a waste."

Sin fought to get to her knees again but failed and collapsed like a newborn colt, Ankti's voice was remote and all senses deserted her as she passed into unconsciousness.

"Take it inside." Ankti said.

Sin was lifted into Danüs' arms and carried to the slave sleeping quarters where he lay her gently on one of the bunks. She woke for a moment as a cool clay cup was pressed to her bottom lip, cool clean water tricked down her throat and she pulled back choking. "Drink slowly or you will be sick." The voice was soft, almost kind.

She opened her eyes a crack and it was Verain's fair face that eclipsed her gaze, she was surprised, her mouth fell open to form a word to speak but he lay his lips against hers saying. "Sleep now." When he pulled back she saw it was Danüs and Verain had been a mere hallucination.

She felt sick but could not pull away from her, her limbs were heavy and impossible to move and she could not make her tongue co-operate. She was helpless as Danüs slipped an icy pale hand beneath the raw silk dress, skimming the flesh of her thigh whilst she trembled in fear. Leaning over her, she could feel his breath hot on her throat, he stopped there awhile, succumbing to a strange shiver.

There was a sharp sound that drew him away from her and he left the room swiftly leaving Sin to fall into an exhausted but anxious sleep, tears cooling on her face.

Sin slipped into a dream too easily, it was as if the vision was waiting to grasp her and she was sucked into the gnarled emerald twisting forest near her home in the Hold. She walked bare foot on the narrow cedar path advancing purposefully toward a clearing.

She walked with her head held high, unafraid and the confidence was alien to her.

A figure stood in the clearing, speckled in the light that fell between the trees and she recognised him instantly. Verain. He turned to look at her, regarding her with intimate familiarity they had never shared.

She didn't hesitate in her pace toward him, a hand reaching to skim over his pale chest, the warmth of his skin spread through her and the scent of jasmine rose in her nostrils. Sin looked down at her hand to find it was as pale as milk and not her own at all. An elaborate ring gleamed on her index finger, a blood red ruby winking from a yellow gold clasp.

Knowing she was not in her own skin she seemed shocked out of her dream body and she could see her spectral form, brown skin and raw silk slave dress.

Verain's head turned toward her ghostly figure, his eyes were narrow and his mouth fell open to reveal beastly sharp teeth.

Sin knew how to run; she was scrambling through the forest, stumbled through the tangle of vines and roots trying to thwart her escape. She could feel the breath of the sharp toothed beast at her back, could taste her own blood in the back of her throat.

Sin woke with start, a scream dying on her lips.

A hand closed over her mouth, the hand of a woman who was sat beside her cot. "Quiet." She hissed with a strange lilting accent.

Sin stared wide eyed but did as she was bid; the remnants of her dream-panic melted away to curiosity and she studied the woman whose large green eyes were flashing with her displeasure. "You think you're a tough one, eh?" The woman spoke softly so as not to be overheard, though Sin saw they were in the small room alone.

The woman was of middling ages for a slave, her abundant crop of blond curls turning white with age. "No one can stand the trial of standing their first time." She mumbled. "It's how the break the most wilful of the new slaves."

"I was doing what I was told." Sin said testing her voice, her throat felt rough and her words came out husky.

"A good thing too." The woman said. "The whip and cross are no small trial."

"Who are you?"

The woman cocked her head, the expression sorely confused. Sin flushed, slaves had no names.

The woman raised her hand slowly to touch Sin's face, tracing her eye socket and lips. "They do not understand." She whispered, whilst her eyes fell and a sad expression shaped her mouth.

Sin pulled back from the woman's touch.

"They're not quite like your or I." She continued almost tenderly. "You are luckier than most."

"I don't know what you mean." Sin confessed.

The woman shook her head forlornly.

The door behind them opened letting in the harsh light of day, Sin squinted against the brightness but recognised Ankti's silhouette in the threshold. "Leave us." Ankti demanded and the woman fled without a sound.

The large dark woman came to sit beside Sin, her frame stooped over the little wooden stool and she picked up the clay cup filling it with more water. "Drink." She said softly. Sin obeyed; too scared to do otherwise.

"You have surprised me." Ankti confessed. "I did not think you would last so long."

Sin handed the cup back and Ankti clutched her wrist hard. The woman's hand was icy cold and felt too strong, different from her kin and even the Hounds. "Today was a trifle, there will be much more for you to learn and if you do less than your best or if you raise a hand to help the other slaves I will see you personally hung and whipped. Do you understand?"

Sin nodded slowly. She was scared but then there was an irresistible trickle of defiance and her eyes must have expressed it.

Ankti grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled. Sin hissed in pain. "Your will is no longer your own child, you are whatever we need it to be. You are merely an instrument of our will. Do you understand?"

"Yes Maistresse." She said from between clenched teeth.

"Good." Ankti released her and she collapsed on the cot. "Now join me in the atrium for your punishment."

* * *

The most splendid day of her life…was a brief and disappointing affair. The ritual had been short, Lucerne had given her the jewels, a white gold necklace encrusted with diamonds and sapphires that reminded her of the crystal cold beauty of the sea. They were the jewels of a goddess, fit for a queen.

Pearl arranged herself on her bed, the spill of moonlight and soft glow of the torches gleaming off her nude skin, creamy pale and flawless as moonlight. The light caught the jewels at her throat and she sparkled like a vision.

Earlier that evening she had smiled with unabashed pleasure when Lucerne had fastened the clasp, the stones cascading into her décolletage, highlighting the rosy swell of her bosom.

Despite Lucerne's eyes, cool and distant during the exchange of vows, Pearl had enjoyed the eyes of the Lords and Ladies of Elysion, envying her silk gown, her sparkling shoes with the six inch heels, the spill of her golden hair and expertly applied makeup.

Her eyes drifted through the crowd and settled on the young Hound, she had heard some call him Verain the Fair and he was by far the fairest creature she had seen on the island. Though she could not deny the Lords of Elysion were immeasurably handsome they lacked the warm blooded beauty of Verain.

She allowed her mind to wander dangerously, thinking how perverse it would be to be with the Hound that way. What if it would Verain to come upon her nude and waiting on the bed, the only thing between them veils of muslin cloth spilling from the canopy bed. She would be able to hear the beat of his blood, the heat of his body, the tick of his pulse beneath her lips as she bit into his…

It was not Verain she was waiting for but her husband. Separated in the aftermath to celebrate, she had retired early to prepare herself for their wedding night. Angling her knee, pointed her toes, arranging the golden locks of her hair and the marriage necklace heaving between her bared breasts.

She refused to be shy and trembling when her husband came in, she would be bold and surprise him, she would show him that she was so very unlike any woman who had come before her.

She waited. She waited and waited until the moon was ripe and then began to dim, morning light started to rise. The birdsong rose in chorus and her head dropped to the goose feather pillow, her limbs collapsing, and she curled into a foetal ball, her eyes finally closed to sleep.

The door opened without ceremony and Lucerne stepped inside, his eyes were as wide as saucers, shiny balls of silver, his mouth stained with red wine.

"I'm tired." She murmured as he approached, weakly trying to grasp the bed covers to conceal her nudity and any notions of confidence had long since diminished, taken from her by the long hours of waiting.

Lucerne moved in silence, parting the muslin drapes, climbing into bed beside her, the smell of alcohol rising in her nostrils and the scent of something else. She tried to wake but her eyelids were heavy, her limbs refusing to stir. "Where have you been?" She asked in a whisper.

He put a hand over her mouth. "Don't do that."

He peeled the covers from her and she began to shiver, taking her eyes away from his face and the look of disappointment that whispered across his features. He rolled her gently onto her side, one hand planted on her hip, gripping it painfully; the other hand covered her mouth to stop the whimpers that escaped her.

He used his thigh to part her legs and angled himself expertly, he pressed his lips to the shell of her ear. "Close your eyes and think of Elysion."

* * *

Updated 01/04/2012

Miss S


	6. Six Update 01 04 2012

Six

* * *

The nuptials of the Lord of Elysion to the Lady Pearl Marsigni seemed rushed, and the House recovered from their over-indulgence for days allowing some time of respite for those that served them. Verain had been able to run in the lower forest each night since the marriage ceremony, his mind heavy with such thoughts that were forbidden to him.

It was the girl…just an ordinary slave, despite her touch which seemed to strip into the meat and flesh of his soul. It was better to forget such things, but the task was hard. His dreams were filled with spectral visions of her. She would come upon him unexpectedly, or be waiting for him when he fell into sleep. They barely spoke and in ways dreams can often be moulded he was helpless to make more of them.

He walked the corridors of the house with an unfocused air which was when the Lord of Elysion had come upon him with a curious request. "Occupy her. Find something to show her. I tire of it all and there is business still to be put in order."

The expression on Verain's face was _must I? _Lucerne's expression was that of a cool implacable mask where questions would not be countenanced. Hanging his head, Verain gave a curt bow and turned to walk toward the gardens, his pace decisively slow.

He admired the gardens, with bushes carefully kept and flowers lovingly nurtured by garden slaves, even tamed the natural things called to him. They spoke in a voice not audible to humankind but his beast could hear as it was part of the chorus of nature.

With a sigh he braced himself for the encounter with Pearl, which he was dreading.

Since her arrival she had had grated on the nerves of all the Lords and Ladies of Elysion, despite her chin still raised and resolute, her every move betrayed her common background. She had neither the training nor natural ability to compare to the People of Elysion and Verain found himself wincing when she failed to do this or failed to do that. It also grated that she loathed Hounds or _werewolves_ as she called them.

He saw her before she saw him and there was no denying her beauty. She appeared ethereal in a gossamer gown of white with silver thread detail. Her hair hung free, curling in loose golden tendrils down her back. When she sensed him she turned toward him with a closed lip smile that belied her disappointment.

"I thought you were Lucerne."

He had never been mistaken for the Maegester before, not with his dark colourings so unlike him. "The Maegester bids me to accompany you today." He said, trying to keep his face free from expression.

"Why didn't he come himself?" She challenged eyes narrowing.

"The Lord of Elysion is far too busy-"

"Doing what?"

Verain was taken aback by the question. His eyes darting he tried to think what was Lucerne doing, besides avoiding the barely tolerable company of his future wife? "His duties." Verain said, unable to command his tongue to form an elaborate lie.

Pearl squared her delicate shoulders. "What has Elysion got to show me?"

"We can walk the paths of the northern mountains-" Pearl shook her head, no. She looked purposefully down at the tips of her feet, her slippers were not made for traversing mountains. "The hunting grounds in the lower forest of then?"

"I can't ride a horse." She countered.

"The shore is beautiful by sunset-"

She stepped forward as if into his confidence, cutting him off mid-sentence. "I want to see the slaves."

He startled. It was an odd request, having known no Lord nor Lady of Elysion to request to go amongst slaves unless they were choosing them for service. It was an odd thing to demand the company of slaves.

"I have never seen a slave camp before." She said, her voice an excited whisper. "Back home, humans roam free of restraint."

"The Maegester would not-"

"He wouldn't have to know." Pearl said and touched his wrist, squeezing gently the tendrils of her Power slithering up his arm almost too sly to notice.

Warning bells sounded in his mind, telling him the diminutive vampire was dangerous; using the whisper of her Power to gently place her request into his brain as if it were his own and then coax a positive response. "I suppose…" Verain heard himself say, faint and uncertain.

"Wonderful." Pearl said, clapping her hands.

She released him and he rocked on his feet feeling bereft of her touch. "I will order a carriage." Verain mumbled an excuse to step away for a few moments.

It wasn't long before they were at the Villa, the journey down the slope of Elysion hastened by the beautiful craftsmanship of the carriage and the pedigree of the horses propelling them forward as if they were driving Apollis across the sky.

Pearl talked and Verain only had the appearance of listening. "I'd never heard of Elysion before Lucerne petitioned the Court for a bride. Of course the Matchmaker thought of me right away." She lied. She had cried and begged her father to bribe the Matchmaker and even then there were doubts.

She had always wanted to be a queen and with her sisters all married, one to a prominent Council member and another mistress to Hunter Redfern, Pearl had to think of how she could best them both. "Why is Lucerne not a King?" She asked.

Verain seemed to come alive at the question. "It is in our histories. The Father of Elysion declared there shall be no kings, that all Lamia stand as equals."

"Equals?" She said with a laugh of disbelief. She didn't think herself equal to anyone except maybe Lucerne himself. After all she alone was good enough to be his wife, none of the other Ladies sat where she was, at his right hand.

The carriage came to an abrupt stop and Verain bound out of the carriage. He came around to help Pearl down into the dust and she looked about her with a disdainful sneer. "Where are we?"

"This is where the slaves are trained for service."

She smiled sweetly at him though her mood was cruel and she lay a small hand on his arm. "Was this where you were reared?"

Verain took a sharp breath but kept his expression smooth. "No, Maistresse. We Hounds are not slaves."

"Oh." She said and nothing more.

The gates opened anyway to allow them to enter the grounds of the villa and Pearl's little dig was soon forgotten.

Steward Danüs was waiting for them a little ways in, though his eyes were hard glittering jewels, seemingly put out by the surprise visit.

As Pearl's eyes drank in the sight of the villa, Verain moved forward to greet the steward. Danüs did not like Verain and did not mask his distaste as they clasped hands. "The Lady has asked for a tour of the villa." Verain said.

"I wish we had some prior notion that the Lady of Elysion was gracing us with her presence." Danüs said, his grip harder than it should be.

Verain cocked his head, showing the sharp points of his teeth. "It is the Maistress' wish and we are all at her command."

Pearl came to stand beside Verain, she offered a pretty smile to the tall, dark haired vampire.

"My Lady." Danüs gave an elaborate bow, his eyes moving covetously over her body. "Permit me to introduce myself, I am Danüs, steward of this villa."

"I long to see these...slaves." She said clinging to Verain's arm.

"Of course." Danüs gave a sharp toothed smile and offered his arm. "May I?"

She landed on Danüs' arm and they walked together into the atrium, Verain trailed behind them, glad of the reprieve. At they entered they came upon a group of six human girls, all standing in a neat row in front of a crude but sturdy cross, the girls appeared all between the ages of four and twelve.

"So young." Pearl noted with wonder.

Danüs chuckled seeing her inexperience and soft gasp. "We cater for all appetites, Maistresse, if you prefer I can show you some of our more advanced girls."

"And what of the men?" She asked lightly though there was the underlying whiff of lust in the air.

Danüs nostrils flared but he masked his distaste with an affable smile. "The men are taken elsewhere for they need no training in the delicacies of serving the House. It was decided long ago only females shall see service of Lords and Ladies as the men lack the…delicacy of a woman's touch."

She thought upon it, and it was true, she hadn't seen a male human slave in the house, merely girls of varying ages and races. She sighed; she would have preferred to see the supple muscled flesh of the male slaves. She preferred to take the blood of a human male.

A scream erupted from somewhere within which commanded all their attention. "What is that?" Pearl asked.

"Punishment of a slave." Danüs said. "Would you like to see?"

Pearl nodded enthusiastically.

They were lead into the halls of the villa, walking fast through interconnecting halls to come to a larger hall where several slaves were gathered around two pools of water and a large, dread locked woman wielded a barbed whip, she turned instinctively when the three spectators entered, her expression was fierce but soon smoothed into cool lines.

"The Lady of Elysion has come to see the punishment, Ankti." Danüs explained.

"Please, carry on." Pearl said, waving a hand casually as if to wave any formalities between them.

Ankti gave a courteous bow and turned back to her slaves.

Verain hung back, his eyes moving over the girls, as if he could will himself to recognise that one slave who had always perturbed him. He could not see her. He thought he would recognise her if he saw her but perhaps he was mistaken. After all one Meridianus girls was much like any other, olive skin, dark hair and dark eyes.

There were again a group of six but all were young women wearing beige silk dresses tied in knots to conceal their assets. Pearl could see them all rigid with fear and the scent of it was enticing.

They were arranged in the regimental line, as she had seen the young ones in the atrium, but one had been separated to stand in front of Ankti.

Her skin was the shade of caramel and her eyes were dark with bruises, the colour indeterminable as her eyes filled with tears.

The five girls knelt in unison, it was almost like a ballet, they posed elegantly on one knee, their hair twisted and falling over one shoulder, exposing the tantalising line of their throats. The girl with the bruised eyes began to shiver, her lips trembled with near audible tears.

"What has she done?" Pearl whispered to Danüs.

Danüs leaned in close to Pearl, his long dark hair brushing her cheek in an intimate gesture. "She has failed in her task today and must suffer the consequences. We are firm but fair, Maistress. We do not accept failure but we reward success."

Pearl nodded, wondering what task the girl had failed and whether Ankti would use the whip she held in one hand, the hooked ribbons running rhythmically through her long dark fingers.

The girl turned around and undid the knot at the back of her neck and the dress fell away from her body exposing her back. There was a tattoo on the base of her spine, Pearl knew this girl was taken from the world beyond the island. "How do you get these girls, surely not all are born here?"

"Many come from our own stock." He murmured. "But some are taken from the main land, we have scouts who spy exceptional humans and they acquire these girls who are transported to us."

Kidnapping. Pearl was stunned, though she could think of no other way they could lure humans to their island without drawing suspicion. This went beyond the bounds of the vampire Court but then there was little use in arguing or resisting the tide of Elysion.

Ankti struck the girl, the hooks taking superficial strips from the girls back. The girl, to her credit, did not cry out but the second strike brought the scream tumbling unashamedly from her lips.

"Excuse me, my Lady." Verain mumbled and fled the hall without waiting for her permission of leave. Pearl watched him go briefly but was irresistibly drawn back to the sight of the girl as the whip bit deeper than before, tearing at the flesh of her body exposing the white layer of skin.

Her appetites were stirred; she could feel her sharp teeth grow in her mouth as saliva whetted her pallet.

"Show me more." She said to Danüs who was more than happy to oblige.

* * *

Sin knelt beside the shallow pool where the tepid waters were calm, the mosaic of Anata clear from beneath. The eyes mimicked in stone seemed alive or perhaps it was some fever dream.

She had been on her hands and knees scrubbing at the floor for many hours; her hands were rough, soaked and blistered from gripping the brush and painstakingly cleaning each tile as she had been instructed. To fail would only bring a beating, and blisters seemed the lesser of the two evils.

She could hear the echo of a scream and forgetting herself for a moment she shuddered at the sound. She knew the voice well as it shuddered by her cot each night, it was Inez. Sin paused in her back and forth motions, feeling the burn of her exertion screaming in her arms and wrists.

Her eyes drifted to the eyes of Anata's staring up from the pool. "Rest her soul in the fields of heaven, may she be reunited with her child in Elysium."

"Do you command the waters too?"

She startled, using her unbound hair to shield her expression she resumed the rocking motion of the scrubbing. "Forgive me, Maegester." She mumbled which was met with laughter. She rolled her eyes up through the strands of her hair and froze as she recognised Verain.

"I am not your Maegester." He said and quickly sobered.

She glanced behind her shoulder superstitiously to see if they were being watched. She couldn't help the feeling of suspicion that stirred in the put of her stomach, after all he was a Hound and she was merely a slave, there was a careful order to life on Elysion and she had ever been reminded that she was the least of it.

"It was not my intention to frighten you." He said, voice softening and his expression sobering.

She raised her face, the hair sliding away to reveal her familiar features and a breath, he hadn't been aware he'd been holding, fell from his lips. She was whole, though her lip was split and her cheek bruised from having been struck on the face.

"I-" He began.

"Ah, Verain." Danüs appeared at Verain's shoulder and Sin dropped her head and assumed the standing position. "I see you have found one of our more wayward novices."

"Is she to be punished too?" Pearl's voice was eager.

Sin could feel herself sinking into despair. "If you'd like." Danüs said the glee in his voice unmistakable.

"Come." Danüs barked and Sin walked the familiar path toward the cross without having to look up.

The child-slaves quickly dispersed to gather at the safe distant beside the lion-head fountain, their glistening eyes staring at the older slave who was already shrugging out of her dress, exposing her torso and embracing the wooden pillar of the cross.

It was rough but familiar to her now, having been beaten regularly by Danüs whose pleasure knew no bounds.

"Would you like to-" Danüs was offering the whip to Pearl but Verain gave Pearl a baleful stare and she shied away from the proffered weapon.

"No please, you go on, I would prefer to watch." Pearl said.

Sin turned her cheek to the wood, rubbing it against her cheek, she kept her eyes open seeking out the silhouette of Verain on the tiles. She hated him at that instant, she should have fled as soon as she'd seen him, perhaps he too took pleasure in seeing her nude, bound and punished.

A sigh passed her lips and Danüs administered the first strike.

Unlike the bruised-eyed girl in the hall, this slave arched her back to receive the whip, it had no barbs so there was none of the joyful spill of blood that had so enchanted Pearl, she almost had a mind to halt the proceedings and insist on a harsher punishment.

As if sharing her thoughts, Danüs paused. "This one is punished so often to use the barbs would see it dead before her purpose has been filled."

Sin body sung with pain but it was something she had become accustomed to so she bore it by gritting her teeth and removing her mind from her flesh, she waited for Danüs to resume which he did with more gusto, to impress the Maistresse - for surely she could be no common person - and also he found his own pleasure in doling out her punishment.

When Pearl saw this slave would not scream she grew ever more frustrated.

Danüs dropped the whip and strode toward Sin, a hand already reaching for her hair wrenching back her head, her throat naked and ripe to take a bite. "You are disappointing the Maistresse." He whispered hotly in her ear and she shivered in disgust as his tongue touched the shell of her ear.

"Enough." Verain interjected.

Danüs turned his head toward the Hound, his expression wroth, ready to make his response.

"That's quite enough." Pearl said. "I've seen quite enough for one visit."

"Of course, Maistresse." Danüs released Sin and she sagged against the pillar.

Verain made a motion as if he were going to approach the girl but Pearl stood in front of him hands placed firmly on her hips. "I want to go home." She declared.

He looked at her, bearing his teeth as if to growl but he then offered his arm and turned away without a word. Danüs followed them to see them to the gate leaving Sin clutching the beam.

"It was a most pleasant distraction." Pearl said. "One that must be repeated."

"Of course it can be arranged as you wish." Danüs bowed low.

Verain glared at the obsequious vampire. "If the Maegester allows it then it may be so." Verain said mildly then his eyes wandered. Distracted. Pearl seemed to go cold at the statement. Perhaps not being used to being refused nor given permission to do as she wished. She would find Elysion a harsh mistress indeed.

* * *

"Speak not of this to the Maegester." Verain advised distractedly, his eyes peering out of the carriage window, his thoughts lingering on the villa.

"I'm not stupid." She replied absently. Pearl too was filled with delight and frustration in equal parts. She would like to visit again and witness the punishment of the slaves, to see the blood flow as it had and the scent of the slave's grief and undoing intoxicating in the air.

However, she was vexed by the dark haired slave who had embraced the cross and bore her whipping as if it were an ordinary thing. The slave had resisted to show any sign of her displeasure, taking any inkling of enjoyment out of the proceedings.

"That girl…that slave…" Pearl mused.

Verain looked at her, his eyes turning a cannily bright. "Yes, Maistresse."

"Did you see how she fought not to succumb to the punishment?"

Verain swallowed. The girl looked as noble as a queen, the arch of her back a defiance to Danüs' whip and her silence was her rebellion against all her masters. A small smile quirked his lip but it disappeared as soon as he felt it materialise for Pearl's eyes were upon him.

"How are disrespectful slaves dealt with, Verain?" Pearl asked.

"I don't know." He confessed all warmth leaving his eyes. "There has not been one to serve in all of Elysion."

Pearl leant forward suddenly and her hand encircled his wrist. "Our journey has exhausted you." She said and lay a kiss on his cheek, her breath hot and crawling intimately down his neck. His body reacted, head turning until their lips brushed in an almost kiss.

The cart came to a sudden stop, they had pulled up before the gates of the house and Pearl fell back on her seat, pasting a pleasant smile on her lips. "We must do this again sometime." She said and let herself out of the carriage.

Verain stared after her, alarmed, his heart hammering guiltily in his chest.

* * *

Updated 01/04/2012

Miss S


	7. Seven Update 01 04 2012

Seven

* * *

One Year Later

Sin was perfecting the lesson in kneeling, it was a particular art, she came to find, to drape one's hair over a shoulder to expose the line of one's throat. The hair gathered in such a way it made the heat of summer all the more miserable as they often practised in the atrium.

By now they had become accustomed to the collars about their throats, they learnt to bear the weight of it and it forced them to correct their posture.

Arin and Danüs observed whilst Ankti strode up and down the row of girls who fought with the desires of their own bodies.

"Very good." Ankti said her lash smacking lazily against the tiles. "All right. Drink."

They all stood to head toward the fountain. Sin's limbs had become used to the punishment of staying in one position for too long though she had not yet perfected each pose to Ankti's liking. Sin had been compliant to all the Maegesters' instructions not wishing to give them any further excuse to punish her.

She walked stretching each limb out, hearing a small series of clicks in her shoulders and ankles. The girls gathered at the fountain where water sprayed from the jaws of a marble lion. Sin put her mouth to capture the cool clean water and luxuriated in the feeling of it rolling down her parched throat.

She could feel Danüs' eyes move over her from far away, it made the welts on her back ache with awareness for it was Danüs who took a particular liking to take the whip to her when it was time for her to be disciplined.

In the distance the doors to the atrium opened and a company of Hounds strode in. The slaves cast glances from the corners of her eyes, long since learning not to turn their heads. The slaves arranged themselves into a line, standing as they had been taught.

Sin saw a beautiful young girl amongst the Hounds, she was perhaps fourteen or fifteen, certainly no more than that with skin as pale as a lily petal and hair as precious as spun gold. "Ankti, it is good to see you." The girl's voice was as sweet as a bird's.

"We did not know you were coming, my Lady." Ankti voice was higher in pitch and softer in expression as she addressed the child. "We would have prepared ourselves better for your-"

"Don't fuss so." The girl said with mock exasperation, Sin had never heard such bold speech from someone so young. "I am not here for pleasure; I have a bone to pick with you."

"Is it something I can assist with, my Lady?" Arin's voice added.

"Bring it in, Verain." The girl called imperiously.

Sin's whole being flushed, she could not stop herself from glancing up, to see Verain striding through the gates with a young boy squirming in his arms.

"I acquired it for a pet but I have found it lazy and disobedient, but I could not stand to have Lucerne punish it."

"Do you wish us to dispose of it?" Arin asked. "My lady?"

Verain dropped the boy in front of Ankti's feet. Sin's eyes studied the Hound scrupulously seeing that even in a year he had changed, or perhaps her memories were growing dull because she did not recall how stunning he was. His inky black hair was swept back from his face, his fair features were more defined now as he made the transition from boy to young man.

She felt Danüs' eyes move between her face and her line of vision and she dropped her eyes with difficulty.

"Remove its hands." The girl said.

There was a collective gasp from the slaves. Ankti's head whipped round, her hair moving like vengeful snakes she gave Danüs a grim nod of the head to take the slaves inside. Again Sin's eyes flicked upward this time briefly meeting Verain's whose eyes flashed with recognition.

The girls hurried inside with less decorum than they had been taught, they fled to the sanctuary of the slave sleeping quarters and Danüs locked the door behind them.

Sin spun round to embrace her little sister who she had not seen for some time for Sin was often separated from the girls she knew to stay in silent quarters with hardier slaves who refused to speak with her. She lay small kisses over her sister's face and she received them with relieved tears and blushes.

"Oh do stop it." Dolor said rolling her eyes and returning her attention to the small window, trying to see the events unfolding in the atrium.

"What of Evi?" Little sister asked softly.

Sin shook her head. Evi had refused to break and Sin had watched as she had been whipped unconscious and the Hounds dragged her broken body away. Sin had smelt the smoke of the pyre as they burnt the body and it was then Sin understood that not all slaves would survive the villa.

"If you had a name it may as well be Sorrow." Dolor muttered under her breath.

"Sorrow?" Little sister repeated with a distant expression.

Sin smiled. "You like it?"

"I do."

Her name was chosen.

"You look well." Sin was relieved to see her sister healthy and growing, she was more graceful and had not last all of her charming innocence.

"Silence." Dolor hissed. The girls all drew close to the window, trying hard to comprehend the scene unfolding. They saw Ankti raise a large knife, it caught the midday sun glinting and hungry and it was brought down with ferocious accuracy and it cleanly severed the little boy's hands from the wrist.

Sin was horrified but her eyes had since fixed to Verain whose expression was blank, though his golden eyes were stormy.

"I do not like how steward Danüs looks at you." Sorrow whispered gently taking hold of her hand.

Sin shivered with the memory of Danüs leaning over her his hand on her thigh and his keen whip biting her back. She would not tell Sorrow of her fear of Danüs or what he did to her in the twilight hours. "Pay it no mind, sister." She whispered.

"Danüs is abroad." Dolor said and they all stood away from the window quickly assuming the standing position and waited for the steward to come.

He burst into the room with his usual cool menace, his face bleak and he extended a finger to point at Sin and Sorrow. "You two, come with me."

Sorrow cast a wide eyed glance at the other girls before following behind Sin. Danüs lead them toward the Lady, he pointed to the blood stained tiles and both girls knelt on the slick tiles.

"What think you, Verain?" The Lady asked. "A dark haired bitch for a pet this time?"

Verain said nothing. Sin could see the tips of Verain's deer skin boots, could pick up his scent beneath the musky scent of the Hound. She closed her eyes and breathed it in deeply.

"Are they obedient?"

"We hope they will soon come to be a credit to your House." Ankti said. "But they are newly chosen and I fear these two are not yet ready to serve you."

The Lady snorted delicately. She thrust a white hand forward and her cold fingers touched Sin's chin to turn her face up to the light. Sin's eyes opened and she was almost blinding by the beauty of the girl, a goddess on earthly feet.

If she had thoughts of Innana, the goddess would indeed have this creature's face and she thought there was nothing she would not clamour to do for this girl. A heart shaped face, flawless alabaster skin, a full pink mouth and eyes the extraordinary shade of the ocean. Sin's lips parted as if to form a word but the girl removed her hand and stepped away from her.

The lady picked up Sorrow's chin.

"Nevertheless, I will take this one." She said softly.

Sin glanced sideways at her sister and saw for the first time the ruby red stone gleaming on the Lady's hand, a golden ring the same as in her dreams. Panic blossomed in her stomach, she didn't want to be parted from Sorrow and at the same time she was envious for the lady had completely bespelled her with one look.

Ankti's long fingered hand plunged into Sin's hair and she pulled her head back, violent and hurting. "Forgive me, my Lady. This one displeases you we can have her removed."

Sin's eyes met Verain's and saw the tension about his mouth.

"No need, Ankti." The Lady said, still studying Sorrow's face. "I wish Lucerne would permit the slaves to sing, I do so like a sweet song and this one looks as if she could be very sweet."

Then turning to point at Sin. "But she should be beaten for her impertinence."

Sin did not know what impertinence she had committed and her expression must have shown this though for Ankti's grip became tighter. Danüs stepped forward with his whip in hand; his expression solemn but his being exuded eagerness.

"Verain should do it." The Lady said.

Sin stared helplessly at Verain, speaking without words that he should not do it.

"Tie it to the cross." Ankti said wearily.

Danüs stepped forward. "No." The Lady said with a smile in her voice. "Verain do it."

Verain took hold of Sin, his hands on the fabric careful not to have their bare skin touch, one hand knotted in her hair which he used to force her to move toward the cross. She could feel his breath on the back of her neck and couldn't deny the pleasure that flushed through her body.

"Why can't you just be careful?" He hissed discreetly in her ear.

He made her hug the vertical beam of the cross, and made silent apologies with his eyes as he tied her wrists together using Ankti's whip. He tugged on the knot and she gave a gasp at the unexpected pressure. He took up position behind her, ripping open the back of her dress to expose welts that had not fully healed and also where the skin was broken.

He hissed sharply at the sight of her back. "It won't survive a thrashing." He called behind his shoulder. "Someone has found sport with it already."

The Lady sighed. "You speak as if you care, Verain. Just get on with it."

Verain took Danüs' whip which did not have the metal hooks as Ankti's did. Sin lay her forehead against the beam which was stained deep with blood, she breathed rhythmically steeling herself against another whipping.

"As my lady wishes." Verain murmured and Sin could hear the whip slide against the tiles.

The first lash was gentle, no more than a tickle really with no real force or much pain.

"Harder." The Lady said.

Sin closed her eyes, lips pressed together tightly as the next blow was harder, the whip snapping, she could feel a cool trickle of blood between her shoulder blades.

"Harder."

Verain hesitated and the whip came out with such a force that Sin couldn't help but scream, knowing it would only displease Maistresse Ankti and the stewards and dishonour them before the Lady which would only serve to have earned her another punishment.

She tried to remove her mind from the sting, drifting through gossamer layers of the celestial realms, each snap of the whip was a snap of lightning behind her eyes. She thought of Verain's touch and goose bumps alighted her skin, she thought of the intensity of his eyes and wrapped herself in thoughts of him.

"Enough." A voice interrupted the rhythm of the whip. The voice was one she had heard years ago and it sent a horrible shudder through her.

"Lucerne?" The Lady sounded displeased.

"I was looking for you, Pearl." Sin remembered that chilling voice, remembered his cold expression as he slit her sister's throat. Sin wanted to turn around but she could only collapse against the vertical beam, the shock of pain made her vision blurry and she waited for the sting to dull into numbness.

"Lord Lucerne, it is an honour to receive you." Ankti spoke in that voice that was not quite her own.

"You need not follow me around all of Elysion, Lucerne. I'm perfectly fine on my own." The Lady named Pearl sounded young and petulant and lost all trace of her authority and malice.

"You are young and impetuous." Lucerne said. "We will speak later."

"I had Verain to escort me."

"So I see. And pray Verain what are you doing with my property?"

Verain dropped the whip, he was gasping for breath Sin could hear it. "Lady Pearl instructed me to punish it."

"And what was its transgression, Pearl?"

Pearl did not respond.

"Take it down."

Verain came to untie her wrists which were sore and red from her restraint. His hands replaced the bindings and squeezed with something like sympathy and for an instant her soul burst forth from the prison of her flesh and she was hurtling into the emerald forests of a dream. He jumped back as if he had been bitten, as if he had forgotten what it was to share her touch. She raised her eyes to look at him but his face was out of focus and she could not form a conciliatory expression.

With her arms free she fell to the ground, having no energy to pick herself up. She felt Verain's arms as she had, careful not to touch flesh to flesh he cradled her protectively.

"You wanted reparations for the boy and I said I would deal with it." Lucerne's clipped tone was distant to Sin's ears.

"I have dealt with it." Came Pearl's peevish reply. "Ankti has taken its hands."

"Pity, we could have used it in the hunt."

"It was mine to do what I wish, Lucerne."

"And now you think to take another slave?"

"I want this one."

There was a long silence. Through the bleary edge of pain, Sin summoned enough of her wits to pray for her sister, let the Maegester deny his woman the company of Sorrow and as if her prayers had been heeded Lucerne spoke. "No. Let's return to the House. You have duties to attend to."

"Come Verain." The Lady commanded.

Sin was vaguely aware of Verain laying her on the hot slates and she felt bereft as he walked away, she fought to open her eyes and saw lord Lucerne lingered, he wore a cold regal expression as he stared down at her.

"I hope she was not a trial, Ankti." He spoke to Ankti of Pearl but his eyes were focused on Sin.

"We are all here to serve the lords and ladies of Elysion." Ankti said and gave bow, her hair scraping on the tiles.

Lucerne's lip twitched into a sort of smile. "Yes. Of course."

Lucerne bent down and put a gloved hand beneath Sin's chin and lifted her face to inspect it, he pinched a welt on her back and with her blood on his fingertips he licked to sample the quality of her blood. He made a noise beneath his breath and stepped away, walking out of the atrium and as his footsteps drifted so did her consciousness.

* * *

Sin was sleeping or trying to sleep when Danüs crept into the infirmary, a slick oily shadow against the darkness, he crouched by her bed. His eager roaming fingertips skimming on the surface of her sun browned skin.

"Wake up, little salve." He whispered and she made a show of being startled. She lay on her chest, her back still cooling from the sting of Verain's lashing, she could not move far or fast. "Shhh." Danüs put a finger across her lips.

"Looks like the Hound didn't do as thorough a job as I would have like." She made a sound behind her lips and he took pleasure in her utter helplessness. "Perhaps I should finish the job, hmm?"

He slid the sharp edge of his fingernail into the groove of her open wound, pain shot through her back and she stifled a scream in the hand Danüs wrapped around her mouth. He put his lips close to her ear, his breath hot against her skin. "You are the worst slave we've ever had; you know that, don't you? It won't be long before you fall to my lash again and perhaps even death."

She closed her eyes, hot useless tears leaked from her eyes anointing his cruel hold on her jaw.

"There are worse things than death." He whispered his tongue slithering against the shell of her ear. That night he proved his words true.

* * *

Updated 01/04/2012

Miss S


	8. Eight Update 01 04 2012

Eight

* * *

"Games?" Pearl asked.

"Games, Maistresse." Verain replied distractedly.

Lucerne had called for a night of distraction, and games were organised for the open air, Hound pit against Hound the tooth and claw their only weapons. Such things were never promoted off the island, Pearl had never seen a creature die in sport and she was giddy with excitement.

"Do they use their teeth?" She asked Verain, her eyes gleaming with the prospect of blood.

"Yes, Maistresse." His voice was dull.

"Do they change into beasts in the heat of the moment?"

"Sometimes, Maistresse."

"Have you ever been asked to-"

"No, Maistresse." He snapped, his eyes glowing bright cutting off the scathing response on the tip of her tongue.

"Well." Pearl absently stroked the soft brown hair of the girl crouched at her feet. "No matter, all will be revealed tonight."

She enjoyed holding the leash, having power over the girl at the end of it, the girl herself was of no consequence but provided an adequate shield between her and the Lords and Ladies of Elysion. Her short time as Lucerne's wife had not earned her any favours with the Lords and Ladies who kept to themselves, talking behind their hands, their silver eyes carefully concealing their secrets.

She would not expose her loneliness, no to them, not to Lucerne, not even to Verain.

Lucerne came to her infrequently, his visit often brief or drawn out, always with her face turned to the goose feather pillows, the diamond and sapphire necklace strangling her throat.

The thought made her shiver.

She looked at Verain; his lovely face was turned to the wall seeing something she couldn't see. Verain was the shadow at her back, she enjoyed the heated way his eyes followed her as she moved with deliberate slowness and measured elegance. "Verain-"

Laughter interrupted her. She turned to see Linnea and Domitian standing intimately in a doorway.

Pearl's eyes were immediately on Domitian who was tall and lean and larger in the chest than Lucerne, the careless brown curls falling into cool blue eyes, they briefly glanced at Pearl with no hint of affection. She decided she would have him in time, it would be a challenge and the outcome delightful, to think a crack in Lucerne's near implacable mask.

Perhaps Lucerne thought she'd go mad, like his last wife. No, Pearl would bear her lot with dignity, by turning despair into white hot hatred and taking pleasure in what would irk Lucerne most.

Her husband had come to her bed half a dozen times a week every week for nigh on a year and still had not made a child in her, she knew how dangerous it was becoming, and how the Ladies of Elysion stared.

It was well known that the Lamia were not good breeders, it was something that took time and the long stretch of time was something she feared most but then in time, she thought with a smile, Lucerne would not be able to help himself and would fall helplessly in love with her. She was after all a glorious beauty.

Pearl glared at Linnea, she couldn't help but notice how her sister in law's silk cloth was finer than her own, intricate gold stitching, her hair coifed and gleaming magnificently. Linnea barely acknowledged her; she spoke in low tones with her companion absorbed in intense conversation.

Why is she so haughty, Pearl thought as she lifted her nose high in the air. She was trapped on this island as surely as Pearl was and didn't even bear the title of the Lady of Elysions. Pearl was as close to a queen as one could get.

Her pet's leash weighed heavy in her hand and her eyes snapped to the bowed head, dark hair concealing the girl's features. Pearl yanked hard on the leash and heard the girl gag, this roused the attention of Linnea and though her eyes remained fixed on Domitian her words were for Pearl. "I do not think it civilised to treat our slaves like pets."

Domitian glanced over his shoulder, his cool eyes meeting Pearl's and then slowly moving to the leashed slave.

"They are chattel." Pearl said, imitating Lucerne curt response.

"It is a waste of resources for it to be put on a leash." Linnea said and Domitian whispered something in her ear that made her laugh and Pearl was excluded from the exchange.

Domitian excused himself with a lingering squeeze on Linnea's arm and Pearl glared at them both. Linnea picked up the hem of her skirt and approached Pearl in only a few strides, she knelt in front of her pet and took its face in one hand to look deep into its brown eyes.

An expression of exquisite sympathy passed over Linnea's features and for a moment the slave's eyes came alive but Pearl tugged viciously on its leash and it fell into a heap of limbs, torn away from Linnea and the vestige of kindness it had seen in the Maistresse's eyes.

"Lucerne gave her to me." Pearl said through clenched teeth.

"Verain." Linnea stood. "You will escort me today."

"Yes, Maistresse." Verain gave a bow, avoiding Pearls gaze and the jut of her lip.

"I thought we would go on a walk today, Verain." She said one hand reaching for him as he passed.

"No." Linnea said imperiously. "He has business to attend to."

"But he's my-"

"Come." Linnea said and turned to walk away, Verain trailed behind her.

"Thank you Maistresse." He murmured hoping not to be overheard.

Linnea glanced at Verain. "For what?"

Verain smiled nonetheless, they both knew Linnea was doing him a favour taking him away from the Lady of Elysion.

* * *

Sin was taught to be awake by night and often slept through the daylight hours. It was on one hot day, she was captive to the perfect blackness of sleep, Hounds came to take Sorrow from her bed.

It was confusion. The slaves were addled with exhaustion and unnatural sleep. She could barely lift her head from her sinking pillow, her eyes fell open a slim crack and daylight assaulted her narrow vision, she saw silhouettes bend to snatch her sister from her bunk, her mouth smothered by the gloved hand of a Hound and the door slammed between them. The room rocked with the impact of it.

Sin struggled to sit up, her body protested as she was still sore from the night's session. She made it to the door and tried the handle, she put her whole weight behind twisting and pulling but it was firmly locked.

She ran toward the small window, it overlooked the atrium and saw Sorrow's shivering frame on hands and knees, the lady Pearl stood a perfect vision of loveliness, a black riding crop in her hand the other pointed evenly at Sorrow.

Tears found Sin's eyes.

"It was inevitable." Dolor whispered from her bunk having witnessed it all in perfect silence. "If it was not now it may have been tomorrow or the next."

Sin knew what Dolor said was true.

Many seasons passed and in this time Sin learned how to serve and importantly how to move without being seen. She learnt the correct way to carry clay jugs of water which differed from the way to carry a jug of wine, she learnt how to carry bowls of exotic fruit which differed from platters of meat. She learnt how to bite her tongue and show no expression doing all surpassingly well for she had no will left to fight.

No amount of prayers would bring Sorrow back.

Now posed in an elegant kneeling position she pondered on why the gods had decided to spare her. In return she had been obedient to the slave Maegesters and stewards, even Danüs who crept into her room by night, turning her thoughts inwards and praying silently and patiently.

Even at this moment when each girl was kneeling in evenly spaced intervals, two rows facing one another with enough space between them for at least three people to walk back and forth. Their hair was tied back to fully expose their faces and their expressions which were schooled into impassive lines.

"Good, good." Maistresse Ankti stalked up and down the ranks of kneeling slaves like a sinuous predator. "No sound, that is true music. Silence, the creative masterpiece of slave kind."

Sin fought against the weakness of her limbs as she prayed in her mind, _Irkalla bind my tongue so that I may not speak, Artum take my eyes so I may not see, Innana grant me peace that I may pass into…_

"You."

The tip of Ankti's whip touched the tip of Sin's nose and Sin rolled her eyes up to the Maistresse. "You." Ankti said again with some venom. "You are not focusing. You are not to look into the eyes of your Maegesters."

Sin's lips trembled but only because she had momentarily forgotten how to speak, so absorbed she had been in her prayers she hadn't noticed Ankti's approach.

"Do you think the Maegesters will not notice?"

Sin knew she was only fodder for a banquet or worse, she had heard Ankti and Danüs discuss this about her, and her eyes rolled back toward the floor. Ankti's words were meant for them all.

"You must clear your mind of thought and understand one fundamental thing." She raised her switch and pointed it up and down at the rows of bowed heads. "You are only meat."

The doors to the hall flew open and brilliant light spilled inside. Sin closed her eyes to save her sight and a sweet smell filled her senses. Slowly opening her eyes she rolled her eyes to the side and her vision was filled with the vision of a goddess personified. Sin was instantly enchanted by her and almost lost her balance and concentration.

"Lady Damiana." Ankti bowed deeply her plaited hair scraping the floor.

The Lady Damiana made Sin's heart beat faster, it was her unbelievable beauty, it was the feeling and presence she brought into the room like the intrusive light when she had opened the door.

"I require only the light haired ones." She said with a flourish of her bejewelled hand.

Damiana herself had long, rich dark locks that were set in ornate curls. "Four will do for now, they must all be of a certain age, a certain look."

Damiana's eye fell upon Sin. Sin dropped her eyes to the ground, biting her tongue to quell the sudden thrill of nerves.

"Or perhaps I should consider a different breed, hmm?"

Damiana walked up and down, each slow measured step painful. The tip of Damiana's switch touched beneath Sin's chin and lifted her face ever so slightly against the bright light of the sun

What strange exotic creatures their Maegester's were, appearing human and yet not at all though the whole of what they were eluded her. She would imagine the gods to be such creatures as them.

"No." Damiana said with a wistful sigh. "I fear this will not do."

She moved to the next girl. Dolor. "Yes, I will take four to the measure of this one." Sin felt relieved and the darkest part of her bereft.

"Very well Maistresse." Ankti said and called for steward Arin to make the arrangements. The slaves waited for the Maistresse to leave before they lifted their eyes to share secret looks with one another.

"I'll pray for you." Sin whispered to the slaves who would be taken. They all glared at her.

"Don't bother." Dolor hissed.

"How can it be that you cannot obey one simple rule?" Ankti appeared her voice a resounding shout. "Silence."

They all fell silent. "Now the Lady of Elysion is approaching to select her lot from amongst you. Should you fail me you will be whipped and should any of you resist you will be crucified."

They waited hours, legs cramping, necks going stiff in this time Dolor and three others were taken away. Sin had gone numb, her head dropped, eyes closed trying to take her focus away from the dull but persistent pain in her limbs.

The silence was breached, the doors thrown open once again and Hounds strode in, the smell of musty fur and stale breath was unmistakable. Her eyes still closed she listened to footsteps walking the aisle between the rows of slaves.

"Maistresse." Ankti lead the party. There was a frigid breeze and Sin shivered.

"All fares well I hope, Ankti." A woman's voice, cold and arrogant but it was not the Lady Pearl's voice as Sin had anticipated.

"Yes, Maistresse Linnea." Ankti's voice had changed, so much more restrained and soft. "Lady Damiana has chosen her lot."

"Has she now?" Linnea did not sound pleased.

They were both now standing in front of Sin. The scent of jasmine was sickening, Sin's head was swimming with it but she dared not look.

"They look magnificent." The lady Linnea said. "Fit for the House indeed."

Sin trembled, exhaustion and fear possessed her limbs. "Ah, what have we here?" Damiana stood in front of her, Sin could see a ruby red ring glinted on her index finger too much like lady Pearl's.

"Sister." A male voice interrupted and Linnea stepped away. "You are not supposed to be here."

"You cannot tell me where I can and cannot be, brother." Something changed in the attitude of the slaves. It was a living and breathing fear that gripped them. "Do not be displeased with me, I have taken your woman's Hound, Verain to guard me."

Involuntary Sin's head rose as if to spy Verain, a verve rushing through her veins she had not felt for so long but she could not see him. A Hound growled noticing her stare and she turned her eyes to see Sorken and her lip twitched tempted to scream.

Sorken headed toward her in a run and grasped her by the hair, her body stretched up and bent backward. "You." He growled.

Everyone turned to look. Sin's head was stretched back, the line of her throat exposed, ragged breaths passing her lips. Sorken threw her to the Maegester's feet and she lifted her eyes slowly up the deerskin boots and breeches, a pale well-made tunic and a haughty chin, a straight nose and cold silver eyes. Lord Lucerne.

"Hound." Linnea screamed and Sorken withdrew, his features half beast.

Ankti stepped between Sorken and Sin. "What is this about, Sorken?"

"She is the one, the one who escaped out into the night." His voice turned into a growl, crawling up from his animal throat.

"The meat stays locked in their quarters by night, Maegester, no slave walks free here." Ankti said in defence of her own dominance over the villa.

"Is your Hound of sound mind?"Linnea asked and then under her breath. "As much a mind as a beast can have."

"Maegester." Sorken appealed to Lord Lucerne.

"Explain yourself." Lucerne demanded.

Sorken was by now crouched over, his gnarled body of bones and sinew caught between a man and an animal. "She has a name."

"How amusing." Lucerne's lip twitched.

"Pray what is its name?" Linnea challenged.

"Slaves have no names." Ankti said glaring down at Sin who was using the length of her hair to conceal her face.

"Verain does he speak truth?" Linnea turned to Verain who had stepped forward, his eyes on Sin. Sin's whole being was tense, waiting for him to condemn her.

"It is as I said." Verain said softly. "No slave has wandered free in Elysion, he is mistaken, the slave has committed no offense."

He was lying. She raised her head in surprise and grateful for his soft spoken deception. Lucerne caught the look that passed ever so briefly between the two and his lips pursed.

"Take the Hound to be beaten." Lucerne said decisively to Verain. "I do not tolerate deceit or madness. You forced my hand to kill a slave some summers ago, Sorken and for this I will take my payment in blood."

"Yes Maegester." Sorken looked inconsolable.

Verain's hand closed around Sorken's bulging upper arm and guided him outside.

"As for this." Lucerne said to Ankti. "I believe my sister was going to choose her lot. We will take whomever she wishes and that one." Pointing at Sin. "We will take it also to serve in the House."

Ankti looked at him sharply. "Are you sure, my Lord, it-"

Lucerne glared at her, silver eyes fierce and unmistakable and she balked. She conceded with a bow. "As you please, my Lord."

"Let us go sister." He offered his arm to Linnea who with little hesitation took hold of him and together they walked away as if little had happened.

* * *

The night was fragranced and heated by the circle of torches that marked the edges of the fighting ring. Two shirtless Hounds stood, the corded muscles of their chests made orange by the flames. Beyond the torches couches were sprawled where the Lords and Ladies of Elysion would recline to watch the spectacle.

Sorken was the larger of the two Hounds, he had earned his place through his earlier transgression. His chest was marred by ribbons of old scars, teeth wounds, whippings. The other Hound was at least two heads shorter than his opponent but stockier with an unpleasant expression.

"I'll have my coin on Sorken." Linnea said with a cup held elegantly in one hand.

"I favour Volka tonight." Domitian said with a sharp toothed smile.

"Volka is in fine form." Linnea conceded raising her glass in salute. "But Sorken has never been bested."

"True."

The House's physician Alister sat with his medical kit at his feet, he would preside over the match as referee but his lust for blood was notorious and he would ensure a long bloody battle to entertain the gathered Lords and Ladies.

Linnea saw Pearl's approach down the passage of torches to the couch reserved for Lucerne, nearest the blood. The thin sliver of a slave girl struggling to keep up on hands and knees, the collar held painfully tight at her throat and behind her, Verain a slender shadow at her back.

Linnea met his eyes over her head and his expression spoke of his irritation. She tipped her glass toward him and he took his seat on a nearby couch, his eyes moving carefully over the Hounds in the distance.

Lucerne arrived moments later. "Welcome, Ladies and Lords." He raised his hands to quiet the gathered. "Tonight we pit beast against beast. Sorken and Volka will fight, the first to admit defeat or die by tooth or claw loses. And to the victor." Lucerne raised a lock of Sorrow's hair and smiled.

"Oh Lucerne, no." Pearl said clutching at the leash in her lap. Lucerne gave her a sharp and she bit her tongue.

Lewd grins split the faces of the fighting Hounds as they appraised the girl's naked form, where she cowered at her Miastress' feet.

"Bet wisely for tonight we pit the best of our Hounds." Lucerne gave a small nod to Alister who talked in low tones with each Hound, going over the rules of the match.

Lucerne took a seat and the Lords and Ladies applauded.

The match began. Sorrow gathered her limbs and trembled at the foot her Maistresse' couch, she stared with trepidation at the two shirtless Hounds, the light playing on their fierce muscles, their cruel expressions and seething breath. Their minds had already turned to that of their animals and soon their bodies would followed.

They clashed, their fingers turning to claws aiming the deathly points at the soft part of the belly, the throat, the thighs, there was a ferocious chorus of growls and their hatred was keen.

They wrestled in the mud, Sorkens large body gaining the dominant position atop his combatant, digging a knee into his gut and wrapped hands about his throat. Volka's sharp hand tried to jab at Sorken's ribs and drew blood.

Sorrow's fingers dug into the dirt beneath her as if she could summon the strength from god Doric himself, whilst tears blurred her vision and the Hounds tumbled across the sands. She hoped they would both die.

The Lords and Ladies shouted together, each backing their chosen Hound urging them on to kill and win. The events took place every few months at Lucerne's pleasure, thee fights, the hunt, the revels in the great halls. Elysion was famed for its distraction.

Despite Sorken's size, Volka was far more agile and in a half-beastly form he managed to climb above him to bury sharp teeth deep into his shoulder trying to rip a chunk of flesh from him. His grip was powerful and Sorken could not shake him off.

Pearl was stirred by the excitement and tugged on Sorrow's leash, the girl was jostled about carelessly.

Sorken managed to get a grip on Volka, pressing claws into tender parts that distracted him and the clapm of his jaw loosened and he managed to throw Volka into the sand. Before he could recover, Sorken was on top of him, pinning him with his weight and with a growl he bit into Volka's throat to match his own wound which was leaking ribbons of blood.

Volka's skin seemed to shimmer as he shifted into his human form and raised a hand for mercy.

Lucerne was enrapt with the fight, too absorbed to intervene, a hard smile hovered about his lips and he was enjoying the sight of Sorken's jaw clamped on Volkas' throat. He tore his eyes away only to glance at Verain, finding the young Hound's eyes bright with the killing light, the excitement of the fight calling to his other nature.

"Should I show mercy, Verain?" He asked.

Verain's gaze snapped to his and he swallowed. "He has asked it of you, my lord, Sorken has won the fight, as always."

Lucerne nodded and stood. "Mercy." He said but Sorken refused to relinquish his hold quickly. "I said enough." Lucerne shouted and Sorken released Volka and stood becoming fully human and displaying a proud erection.

Pearl was glaring at the victor, she didn't like the look of him and her hands clenched and unclenched on the leash.

"Ah, it seems you have won this night." Domitian said to Linnea.

Lucerne's hard eyes turned toward them and Linnea turned her head away. Lucerne did not like any man to have such a familiar tone with his sister, his sister was sacrosanct and the Lords knew better than to court her and especially not engage with her in Lucerne's presence. Linnea sipped from her wine cup.

Sorken roared, lifting arms above his head, delighting in his victory to another rain of applause.

Alister moved quickly to tend to Volka who was stretched impotently on the sands, his breathing laboured.

Sorken pointed a finger at Sorrow. "You are mine."

Pearl glared at Lucerne. "If he breaks it I will expect it to be replaced."

Lucerne licked up her hand and lay a gentle kiss on his child bride's knuckles. "Of course, my dove."

Pearl took the chain from Sorrow's collar and the girl looked confusedly between her Maistress and the Meagester. "Go to him." Pearl instructed and Sorrow found her feet, legs trembling, she stumbled toward the circle of torches, the nausea evident on her face.

Sorken took her under his arm, his breath pungent with blood. "Don't worry, little meat, I'll take good care of you."

The Lords and Ladies stood, the spectacle over, coins exchanged hands and a murmur of conversation rose into a dull roar. They moved back toward the House where the merriment would continue.

Verain remained on his couch, watching Sorken stride away with the girl under his arm, he was awash with pity for her, for Sorken's attentions would not be gentle. He thought how easily that girl could have been the other slave, the slave who had a name…or at least Sorken accused her of having a name.

"Let's retire." Pearl said.

Verain glanced at her and then at Lucerne who looked displeased at the way Pearl's eyes lingered on him.

Lucerne offered his arm to his wife and she grudgingly placed her hand on his forearm and allowed him to walk her up the torch lit path. Verain watched them go, glad that the Lord of Elysion favoured him enough to save him from punishment.

When he turned his head back to Sorken the Hound had already disappeared down the path to the Hound's Den. It would be a fleeting victory for he was still to be punished afterward.

He found Alister still tending Volka whose neck was open but healing slowly.

"It was a clean bite." Alister said and glanced at Verain.

Volka stared up at him gasping. "I hope the bitch of a slave gives him the pox."

"He was the better wolf." Alister said as he applied salve to the edges of the wound. "No one has bested him yet."

"Just give me another few minutes and I-" He hissed sharply as Alister pressed hard on the wound.

"Be careful Verain the Fair." Volka snapped. "Sorken could tear you to pieces."

* * *

Updated 01/04/2012

Miss S


	9. Nine Update 01 04 2012

Nine

* * *

Those chosen for the House were to be meticulously cleaned before presented at the gate at Ankti's insistence. Sin followed a line of girls who were trembling with equal parts excitement and dread. Sin herself could barely contain the pounding of her heart. Their collars were removed and a mighty weight was lifted from their shoulders.

They were lead toward the salon where they were taken one at a time to be treated by slaves trained in such preparations. Sin was standing for hours until she was made to lie on her chest on a marble slab, the icy shock of the stone on her chest made it hard to breathe.

Two blue robed women appeared, carrying vials of perfumed oils in their hands. They were old slaves, Sin knew from the size of the collar about their throats, which were slimmer and more like adornments than restraints.

One was tall, light haired, her features marked with the passing of many years whilst her companion was large, round cheeked and had only just passed from her childhood years. The latter clucked her tongue eyes moving slowly over the scars and welts on Sin's back. "Look at these scars."

"It is lucky she is as brown as a nut, the oil may disguise some of these marks." The other replied.

Sin waited in silence as cool, wet fingertips kneaded the skin on her back, a gentle hypnotic motion that allowed Sin to drift into a delicate sleep; she could not stop herself from heeding the call of a beckoning dream.

The edges of her mind became the dark and emerald of the forests, she could hear the whispers of the sea and it was very much like the whispers of the robed women.

Verain stood in the glade as he always did, with his pale broad back to her.

She crouched in the earth, putting her fingers to the fertile soil of his mind. "Why here?"

"I was born here." He said without turning around.

They often met in the small clearing of the forest, in the south not far from her home, the same tangle of branches and green, the day giving way to night. Always the same place in her dreams. "Were you born as a wolf or a boy?" She asked softly with no real curiosity.

"Both." He turned and she could see his face was half animal but not in the unappealing way as most Hounds. His teeth were sharp, the tips of his ears sharp, and his eyes slowly turning to the shade of molten gold.

"Where is your mother?"

"Our mother is Sylvia." He said and looked up at the sky where the moon was large and low. "She is my mother."

"I never knew my mother." She said and stood, dusting off her hands and staring up at the moon.

"You shouldn't be sleeping." He turned to face her and they began to circle one another. "You're not being careful."

"I'm going to die soon." She said with no inflection. "It is of no consequence."

He paused in his step and this caused her to stop also. She stared up at him as he drew closer and closer, close enough she could feel the warmth of his breath on her face. "Is it true what he said? Do you have a name?"

She nodded slowly, feeling herself leaning forward toward his warmth, his smell, his lips parting to form a word.

Icy water sprayed her face and she lifted her head to gasp for air. "There'll be no more of that." The old women hissed pinching the skin of her buttock. "If you're caught daydreaming in front of the Maegester they'll have your neck for sure."

Sin sat up wiping the water off her face. Ankti strode into the salon; her presence brought with it a chill wind and Sin wrapped arms around her bare breasts to ward off the cold.

Ankti appraised her with hard dark eyes before turning to the other women. "Will she do?"

"She's of fine stock, Maistresse." The old one said with a sage nod.

"She is Meridianus." The young one murmured to her companion as if that alone testified to her quality.

"Resume." Ankti said and Sin lay back on the table, the women's hands moving back over her limbs.

"It is an honour to serve in the house." Ankti spoke while she paced, Sin's eyes on her strong thick calves. "You will witness such things as you never thought possible and be amongst the beauty and mystery of the Lamia."

Sin wondered what a Lamia was, what differences marked them from Ankti and from slaves. She listened patiently as Ankti spoke about decorum and conduct of House slaves and how fortunate she was to have been selected.

Sin could read the sliver of fear in the woman's voice, Ankti feared Sin would shame her but Sin was consigned to her fate and only wanted to be a credit to Ankti. The sun sunk low into the earth and Ankti left the salon allowing the slaves to work on body in an attempt to disguise the worst of the punishment she had taken over the years.

"You have no idea what the Maegesters are, do you?" The younger woman whispered in her ear with a shade of sympathy in her voice.

Sin managed a mere shake of her head, no.

"They are demons."

Sin's eyes widened. She had heard brief tales of demonic beings who defied the gods and were cast deep into the molten core of the earth. So fierce were these beings they could not be contained by the fires of the gods wrath and so powerful were they that they assumed human form.

"They feed on blood and thrive on death."

Sin couldn't imagine what creatures could be more cruel and hateful than the Hounds, if the Maegesters were worse….but they had all appeared so beautiful with alabaster pale skin and jewel fire eyes and though cruelty shaped the mouth of some, gentleness had softened the eyes of most.

"Your death will not be quick." The young one said with a bitter edge in her voice.

"You will pray that you had been chosen for the fields." The other added.

"No, you would pray the Hounds had got you."

The cold hands of dread gripped her pounding heart; it was all that was containing it inside her chest. What could be worse than death?

"There are worse things than death." The old woman said as if reading her thoughts.

"Enough." Ankti appeared again casting her keen glare on the villa slaves and on Sin. The women hastily picked up their bottles of scented oils and perfumes and exited soundlessly leaving her alone with Ankti.

Ankti regarded her where she stood, nude and skin gleaming from the oil, her dark hair woven with pearls. Sin shivered beneath the Maistresse stare, painfully aware of her nudity and vulnerability.

"Now I have never known Verain to lie." Ankti addressed Sin directly catching her eyes and holding them. Sin had only ever met the woman's eyes once before, upon her arrival to the villa and now she found herself falling into the dark depths of her pupils. "You have encountered him before I expect as he has free roam over all Elysion."

Sin dropped her chin to her chest, her hair falling in heavy curtains to conceal her expression as her cheeks burned with shame and the knowledge of her secret dreams where she met Verain often. But they were just dreams…

Using the butt of her whip, Ankti forced Sin's chin to rise and their eyes to meet again. "Why would he lie?"

Sin bit her tongue.

"If I were to tell the Lords and Ladies of the House they would not take the news kindly."

Sin's expression was one of momentary horror and the slip was enough for Ankti to see. "Ah, so there it is." Ankti smiled like a serpent. "You are attached to the Hound." She moved closer, muscles rippling like an animal. "Is he the one who breached you first?"

Sin shook her head, her cheeks turning darker with colour.

"Then perhaps he merely lies to shame his uncle." She mused.

Sin dropped her eyes and prayed for her to relent, biting her tongue so hard she now tasted her own blood.

Ankti gripped her by her hair, pearls and silver chains rattling. "You may have had illusions of freedom once, may have broken the rules and may have given yourself a name but you will discover, slave that you are no more than meat to them." Sin saw a savage hurt in Ankti's eyes and wondered what harm the Maegesters had set upon her that she would be so bitter and jealous.

There was a rapping on the door.

"Maistresse Ankti." It was steward Arin's voice that sounded muffled through the door. "Danüs awaits."

Ankti smoothed down Sin's hair and lay her lips against the slave's and gave a shuddering breath. "It is clear your gods have marked you, slave. Much good may it do you now."

Sin fell the floor at the absence of Ankti's touch. Her limbs felt like jelly and it took her a moment to collect her strength, Ankti held the door open and Sin climbed to her feet.

The two villa slaves appeared again to wrap her in a new dress, careful to tie knots at the back of her neck and at her hips so all her private parts remained unseen. The fabric was cool and nude in colour being only two shades paler than her own skin.

She followed Ankti soundlessly as she had been taught, with each step her heart beat grew louder and she was certain everyone could hear her approach. She was the last of the slaves to arrive in the courtyard where a gilded cage, sturdier and enforced with gold and elaborate filigree dappled in the last rays of sunlight.

Danüs was already sitting in the driver's position and she was mortified to see Verain seated beside him. The feel of Ankti's lips still burned her mouth and the lingering memory of her daydream still haunted her. Her throat was painfully blocked with tears to think she may never be allowed to dream again, never to see the spectral vision of Verain as she slept, never to share her thoughts or touch his flesh or fur…but they were just dreams.

Seven other girls were seated inside the carriage cage and the two white horses at the front were stamping impatiently at the tiled ground. Arin helped her climb in and she felt the carriage shift with her weight. Her eyes moved over the other slaves who were gleaming and sweet smelling, fully prepared for the first foray into service.

"Make sure they arrive safely at the House." Arin said to Danüs an ill look passed between them.

Sin raised her eyes to Maistresse Ankti feeling a pang of grief at their separation. She feared what was to come next more than she feared staying at the villa with Ankti's whip and even Danüs who visited her by night.

Her hand closed around a cool golden bar of the cage and Arin lightly whipped at her fingers.

"Go." Arin said and Danüs whipped the horses into a slow trot, Sin rocked to and fro, grasping the bench which she sat to keep her balance. She cast a forlorn look back at the villa at the silhouettes of Ankti and Arin.

When they had passed out of sight, Sin placed her head back against the cage, staring at the ceiling above, clasping her hands together she closed her eyes and prayed.

* * *

Lucerne glared at his adopted brother.

Lux was taller than Lucerne, slim and honed for the fight. Honey blond hair and soulful grey eyes, the childish face he had remembered had matured into handsome and discerning features.

"Careful." Linnea murmured, watching Lucerne. "This is his welcome feast."

Linnea's voice needled into his hateful stare. Lux had arrived without ceremony, for Lucerne refused to celebrate his arrival and tolerated him under duress. The Council had written to him with a veiled threat, leaving him little choice but to consent to Lux St John's petition to visit Elysion.

Lux had applied each year for ten years for permission to visit, until now Lucerne had had the power to refuse him but on this occasion bound by politics, he couldn't refuse. He didn't want to Court to press and force their way in, their greedy eye on the resources of the enclave.

Lux had arrived on the dock with only Domitian to greet him, given a mount to trample up the slopes to the house where he was lead silently into the house and given a small room in the farthest compartments where he would be no trouble.

Lucerne could not drag his eyes from his adopted brother; his whole being was poised, ready for battle.

Lux. Lucerne took a deep draught of his blood wine. The boy adored by Lord Lauren, Lucerne's father; Lux had stolen his father's love and his sister's and for that Lucerne could never forgive him.

Lucerne had had him removed from Elysion as soon as it was within his powers to do so. He had petitioned the vampire Court to foster Lux on the mainland and they had been eager to accept. He was considering now if that were a good idea.

Lux was now a well-trained creature for the vampire Council who cared nothing for the history of the island, the ichor of the gods that ran in the veins of Arun and Anata's descendants. He would have to remind Lux that the Lords and Ladies of Elysion were formidable and not to be sought as enemies.

"Try smiling, brother." Linnea suggested lightly and walked away to mingle with the women.

Lux had arrived late to his feast, clothed in garments from the main land, slacks and a jumper that looked so casual, comfortable and unlike the Lords and Ladies. He chatted with Domitian, having an easy conversation, oh how easily he seemed to fit in and amongst the people as if he were the Lord of Elysion himself. Lucerne's glare was cold enough to cut.

He turned his eyes away in disgust and it was Pearl who filled his vision, her perfume snaking up his nostrils as delicate as a fist.

He had to force his hand to relax its grip on his goblet and he made a bee line for his wife. She looked wonderful and miserable, her pale brows drawn together in confusion, her head bent over her wine cup as if she could hide in the depths of her blood wine.

The slave at her feet looked half dead, the last one she had had only lasted a few months. It was thin, almost too scrawny for notice, save for the bejewelled collar and tantalising curve of her breasts and hips newly ripening into womanhood.

"Pearl." He greeted her, forcing a smile to his lips.

She looked up at him through slitted eyes. "I hear he's not your real brother." She motioned drunkenly toward Lux who glanced at them, tipping his glass in salute. "He looks nothing like you."

"He is my brother by law." Lucerne said. "And that is all you need to know."

Pearl's eyes lingered on Lux, her hand hanging on Verain's arm, Verain's eyes were on the slaves and Lucerne watched it all with pursed lips. He had cautioned Verain before, Pearl had an eye for things of beauty and he would not put it passed his wife to take what she wanted.

Verain was shaping up to be a good steward and a loyal slave. "Have the new lot arrived?"

Verain startled. "No, Maegester." He said. "They are running late. I left them upon the road to fetch assistance." At which point Pearl had accosted him and insisted he remain for the feast.

Lucerne looked at him sharply; he didn't like the sound of that. The stewards would pay dearly for any embarrassment this would cause him. "Go and see what is keeping them." He said and Verain went with a nod.

Pearl was staring at her husband from the corner of her eye, she had her suspicions as to where he went when he was not with her, bedding the Ladies of the House or perhaps bedding his chattel. A look of disgust pinched her features.

Lucerne stepped close to Pearl, leaning down close enough to kiss. "Be careful little queen." He whispered. "Don't grow too attached to the Hound."

"I don't fuck my slaves." She hissed.

Lucerne smiled. "That is good to know." Though he could sense the blood behind her face, and he knew if she had not taken Verain to her bed already, she had had thoughts of it. "Enjoy yourself but not too much, eh my dove?" He walked away.

Lucerne took a new cup of wine from a passing slave and sipped it, enjoying the tantalising drop of blood at the bottom, a rich and succulent vintage perhaps from a Nubian.

His eyes were again on Lux, watching as he bent his head to Linnea's ear, a gesture that was alarmingly intimate.

When they were children Lux and Linnea had been close, he had often come upon them with their heads bowed together, whispering in corners and dispersing as soon as they noticed him. He could not deny his jealousy. They were doing it again now, Lux's mouth pressed against the shell of Linnea's ear, whispering.

He felt his hands begin to shake with rage but his face remained cool and unreadable. He strode toward them purposefully and when they noticed his approach they broke apart, as he anticipated, Linnea's cheeks were flushed. "How are you enjoying your feast, brother?" Lucerne asked, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

Lux lifted stolid grey eyes. "It is a true Elysion welcome." He offered up his cup for them to touch. "It is good to be home."

Lucerne glanced heatedly at Linnea who had the grace to flinch, she made her excuses and left to re-join the women. "What brings you here?" There was no mistaking Lucerne's suspicious tone.

Lux's eyes were sly and unsurprised. "It isn't strange for someone to return to their home, to reunite with their family and friends."

"That would be true if you had either family or friends on Elysion."

Lux's jaw tightened. "I have business elsewhere; my stay will not be overly long."

"I wouldn't imagine it would be." Lucerne beckoned a slave carrying a jug of wine. "Here, drink up."

Lucerne left him and found Linnea talking with the Lady Damiana. With one look at Lucerne's expression, Damiana gave a curt bow and left quickly. "Did you interrogate him?" Linnea asked with a raised eyebrow. She was the only woman who could talk without fear.

"No." He said. "But I do not like that he is here. Stay clear of him Linnea or I will have you confined to your room."

"Luc-"

He put a hand up. "Please do not beg."

She bit her tongue, humiliated tears wetting her eyes.

"I do not want to discuss this again." Even as he spoke, Lux was casting his soulful eyes across the room at Linnea causing Linnea's cheeks to flush crimson. Lucerne didn't notice.

* * *

Updated 01/04/2012

Miss S


	10. Ten Update 01 04 2012

Ten

* * *

Torches were lit at a modest set of doors that did not share the grandiosity of the main entrance. Moonlight cast its pale shadow across the marble plinths and pillars, statues of fine women bearing their breasts and covering the space between their legs.

On the climb to the house, Sin saw the wild growing jasmine whose scent had punctuated her time in the villa, she reached a hand through the gilded bars and felt the petals graze her fingertips. The other slaves glared at her but did not speak a word.

The House was shrouded in beauty and mystery of the night. The grounds that she could see were immaculately kept for no blade of grass grew above a certain height and no creeping vine reach further than another. The precision of her surroundings, the calculated beauty surpassed the quaintness of the villa.

The carriage came to a smooth halt, for Danüs was a talented driver. The doors to their gilded cage opened and she was the first to step out just as she had been the last to climb in. The sound of distant music assailed her ears as her bare feet touched the dry earth.

The magnitude of the house was hard for her to comprehend for she had seen no other of its likeness it reached high off the ground, counting five dark windows from its foundation, and a pale spire tower emerged from the centre she remembered seeing it as a child from the wheat fields.

A house fit for earth prowling gods, she thought.

Danüs stood at her shoulder, his breath hot on her ear, his fingers wrapping around her upper arm, his fingertips sharp and biting into her flesh. "It is a shame I will no longer be able to score this sweet skin."

Sin shivered her eyes fleeing to seek out Verain who had started the journey with them but that had been many hours ago now.

"Ah, steward, we were expecting your arrival on the eighth hour." A lightly accented voice interrupted and Sin released a relived breath. Danüs released her and turned to face a plump woman of middling years dressed in a sober black dress, her bright red hair tied back severely from her face.

"The road is in much disrepair, Maistresse." Danüs bowed his head. "The cart is cumbersome."

"My Lord Lucerne does not like excuses."

"And have the festivities begun?"

"Yes, as well you know."

"You will forgive me, won't you, Maistresse?"

The woman's peeved expression softened her once ruddy features turned smooth with a hint of humour about her mouth. "Away with you Danüs. Are these all my new girls?"

"Lady Damiana's lot was presented this morning before you were out of bed, my dove." He smoothed back an errant lock of her hair. "These are for the Lady and this one for the Lord himself." He jerked his chin toward Sin.

Dolly's eyes moved over Sin with clinical disdain. "She's older than what he usually likes."

"Somewhat a mystery to us all." Danüs smiled darkly and then turned to close and lock the cage.

Sin had never before considered herself old, she was somewhat about sixteen.

She watched Danüs climb back on the cart and direct the horses masterfully; he took them further into the darkness beyond the reach of torch light. She felt a prickle of fear, and goosebumps alighted her arms. _There are worse things than death. _The words rattled in her ears.

"Now my dears." Dolly said appraising the shivering girls with the same expression as she had Sin. "I am Maistresse Dolly the Chief Chamberlain of this House. You will take your orders from me and my staff. I do not tolerate dissent or laziness and nor do the Lords and Ladies of this House. You must spend the remainder of your lives being a credit to your tutors and to me. Failure to do so will result in a girl being given over to the Hounds."

"There will be no talking, save for the instructions I give and messages I may pass through you and of course at the Lords and Ladies' leisure. You will be expected to bathe twice a day and keep your clothes clean to be in any other state would disrespect this House."

She directed the girls with gestures of her hands to form an orderly queue. "Once you step into this House you must forget any notion of who you were before."

When Sin stepped through the small wooden doorway she expected to feel a thrill of magic sweep over her skin but all she felt was the warm air spiced by candle smoke and cool feel of the stone floor beneath her feet. Maistresse Dolly led them into a dimly lit room filled with benches and tables, only three candles were lit in the sconces that edged the room.

"This is where we convene for meals and discussions. You will notice that we do not keep a hearth in this room for it is not thought necessary by the Maegesters. There will be no complaint about the cold nor the heat, you must bear all matter of discomfort with closed lips."

She led them onwards through a dark and narrow passage, the girls stretched out their hands to feel their way along, disoriented by the darkness and unfamiliar way. "You will find that this castle is marked by such passageways, it is what allows the slaves and such to move discreetly about the place, each of you will learn the slave ways and you will not require a light." Her voice was narrow, echoing oddly in the dark. "Each Lord and Lady has a symbol by which their chambers may be identified…"

Maistresse Dolly struck a match and lit a candle and the dull light was harsh to their unaccustomed eyes, they squinted and followed unevenly into a room that had twelve modestly dressed bunks. "This will be your dormitory, for now. If your Lords and Ladies are pleased with you they may need you to be quartered in private rooms."

She walked to the far end of the room, her ruddy features haloed in candle light. "Through this door is a bathing chamber, you will be given fresh water morning and night."

The girls looked around the room, marking their bunks with shared looks and nods. Sin's eyes didn't leave Dolly who was still scrutinising them.

"Now you have not been oiled and fragranced for nothing." She placed the candle of a shelf and walked back toward the door, the girls dispersing quickly to let her pass.

"You will be shown to lady Linnea." She turned to Sin. "And you to lord Lucerne."

"You have come upon this House on a special occasion, for Lux - being the adopted son of late Lord Lauren - has returned home." Her lips formed a fond smile and when she realised it herself she corrected her expression. "There will be feasts for three days in his honour and you all will be expected to serve the Lords and Ladies as part of your introduction."

Sin's mouth went dry. She feared what she would see, demonic creatures ecstatic with revelry, reddened with wine and suckling on meat, tearing flesh from bones. She feared for her life and those six words rattled in her ears _there are worse things than death._

"Come now we will have you properly attired for the festivities and then we will provide you with platters and jugs and onward to meet your destinies."

* * *

Pearl was drunk; she could feel the heat in her cheeks, the edges of the room spun faster and faster. She laughed with unabashed pleasure and twirled until her skirts began to sing, catching the light and making her gleam like a comely nymph.

Verain stood dutifully nearby, his features dazzling in her vision; he was so lovely that he too brought colour to her cheeks.

The Lords and Ladies would be scandalised if they knew she followed him into the forests, she bared her breasts to him and allowed him to lay his lips against her. She shivered at the memory of it and laughed.

It had been easy to seduce him, to push the sliver of Power between the soft tissues of his mind to obey her.

Verain caught Lucerne's eye and with a discreet nod he moved away from Pearl.

Pearl stopped to catch Lucerne's eye, she took pleasure in the brief spark of jealousy that crossed her husband's face.

She was conscious of the Lords and Ladies, some more than twice her age, disliking her. They were all jealous of her beauty and youth, of course. Pearl could fathom no other cause for it. So she ignored their glares, avoided their whispers and took pleasure in the small things, the full bodied draught in her cup, the warmth of the hall and the melody that rose faster than the beat of her heart.

Her pet was collapsed at her feet, it did not carry the jewels Pearl had bestowed on it well and Pearl liked her possessions to shine. Her pet looked tired and with one cruel yank she brought it to attention, to its credit, it was a far more obedient slave than the last.

She led it gently now, circling the room to observe. The tall, slender form of Lord Domitian caught her eye and she took time to appreciate his visage, the strength in his limbs.

Domitian's eyes were on Linnea but Pearl had it in mind to divert his attention to her alone. With alcohol fuelled bravery she sidled up to him with an irresistible smile. "Your cup is empty, my Lord." She gently touched his hand and pushed her cup into the other. "Share mine."

Domitian's gaze raked slowly over her and his expression became dark, he bent his head down close enough to kiss, his breath shivered against her mouth and she was trembling with anticipation. He did not kiss her, instead he spoke. "Run along little girl and play with your dolls, the adults are talking." He pulled away from her and she was left rocking on her feet.

Her cheeks coloured with something other than wine and blushes and she stalked away from him whilst he turned and resumed his conversation with another Lord, together they dissolved into a rumble of laughter. Pearls wished to escape the echo of it, someone grasped her elbow and she flinched.

"Hello, my Lady." Lux expression was affable and she stared up at him in wonder. She was suspicious of him, as Lucerne's wife she could not be seen to be friendly with Lux who was as close to an enemy as one could get. The echo of Lucerne's warning to stay away from him ebbed quickly away as Lux smiled.

"My Lord." She inclined her head but the room spun and the floor suddenly came up only Lux's grip on her arm prevented her greeting of it.

"Too much to drink?"

She gritted her teeth against the shame and his tone which was lightly teasing.

"It is a lovely celebration and the wine is good." He raised a cup; she was enrapt by it, encrusted with rubies and embossed gold leaf filigree. "It has been a long time since I've had such a fine vintage."

From the corner of her eye she saw Lucerne staring at her, with a forced smile she lay her small pale hand on Lux's sleeve and laughed louder than was proper. "Do go on." She said.

Lux's eyes were like cumulonimbus clouds, his mouth curved in a smile that showed the tip of his sharp teeth. "We're both from the mainland, Pearl, may I call you Pearl? It must be hard for you here. You don't know the ways of Elysion and Lucerne is a harsh master."

"I don't know what you mean." She said, her smile frozen in place.

He brushed his knuckles lightly against the underside of her jaw and her breath released in one steady puff. "I feel sorry for you." He said in a whisper. "Perhaps you will need a friend in these times and I can be a very good friend, Pearl."

The room started to receded and she was lost in the scope of his eyes that had gone as hard and metallic as silver, and Lucerne was forgotten.

The scent of Lux overwhelmed her, the warmth he emitted as surely as Lucerne emitted ice. Trapped beneath his gaze she thought she knew why Lauren had preferred his adopted son over his own flesh and blood. Pearl could not deny the thrill of attraction; she couldn't help but imagine being loved by a Lamia like Lux.

Regret surged through her being, if only she hadn't married Lucerne…

Linnea appeared between them and the spell broke. "My Lady." Her voice was as sharp as a blade cutting through Pearl's daze. Linnea gave a limp curtsey as all the women were meant to show Pearl deference as she was the Lady of Elysion, but the gesture was hollow.

Pearl summoned her best glare and tried to wilt Linnea but Linnea was made of the same ice as her brother and would not balk. "I need more wine." Pearl said and held out her cup which was instantly filled by a slave.

"May I talk with you in private?" Linnea murmured to Lux. There seemed to be something unspoken between them and whilst Pearl was distracted by her cup the two left quietly together.

Pearl drank deep, not caring if she had passed the point of propriety. She thought with her wine addled mind that she would have Lux in that way just as she would have Verain and Domitian and another man she pleased. She would be loved by all the men of Elysion, she would be worshipped as thoroughly as the goddess of the isle and they would be devoted to her.

If Lucerne could not love her then they all would. She cast her rheumy gaze around the hall and spied Verain, she made a bee line toward him, tugging her pet along, she would begin with the Hound and the thought of disobeying Lucerne warmed her to the bone.

* * *

Sin carried the large jug of wine as she had been taught at the Villa. The clay jugs used in the villa were far smaller than the one she held. She struggled to keep the girth of it in her arm, her fingertips crooking into it to keep her hold firm. She trembled slightly with the effort but she had been trained to be strong and keep such discomfort from her expression.

All the girls had been dressed in red, much like those worn in the villa but the material was of a better quality giving an ethereal quality to their movements. The dresses presented as much flesh as possible without exposing their breasts and the fur between the legs.

Sin stood at the back of the queue of girls she had come to the House with, none had exchanged words but the shared trepidation bound them as close as sisters. They were led by Maistresse Dolly down an intricate path as disorienting as their first foray, they relied on the touch of one another's skirts or the brushing of hands to keep their pace.

The music grew louder and so did the warmth, there was a jaunty melody that Sin found to be infectious but then she heard the low rumble of voices and she was afraid again.

The Maistresse pushed open a door and light, sound and smell rained upon them. It provoked their appetites but they had to ignore it as they were soon, one by one lead out into a hall of such great proportion and splendid decoration that their fear gave way to wonder.

Sin's eyes irresistibly flew to the chiffon drapes and brilliant bright threads of tapestries; landscapes unfolded that spoke of other lands beyond Elysion and had the gossamer edge of the celestial. The ceiling was high and each beam was carved with the faces of nymphs and filigree.

There was a large hearth with a roaring fire and above it a mantle with a bear's head mounted high above it. Large plinths bearing statuettes and busts of official looking men, eyes made of marble stared deeply but reflected nothing. There were tables spread with a bounty of food such as Sin had never seen: the juicy meats and fruits and exotic others collected together in a riot of colour and scent.

Then she saw the Lords and Ladies of Elysion and her mouth went dry, her grip on the jug relinquished and she felt it drop, her eyes watching it descend as if in slow motion. Her mouth opened and she drew a breath and her eyes closed awaiting the great crack but it did not come.

She opened her eyes to find Verain holding the jug by its handle.

"Verain." Dolly was by his side in an instant. "She is new to-"

"Pay it no mind, Maistresse." Verain murmured and offered the jug for Sin to take. "It is quite a sight, is it not?" He addressed Sin directly and she blushed, her eyes dropping to the tips of his boots, falling into the standing position.

"Take the jug." Maistresse Dolly hissed.

Sin reached out and Verain eased its weight into her arms, leaning close to her to whisper. "Careful."

Verain walked away, the other girls had their eyes obediently to the ground, having taken little of the grandeur in for fear of what they would see and for fear of Maistresse Dolly's displeasure.

"Go forth and serve the Lords and Ladies." Dolly said but gripped Sin's arm and squeezed tight hissing from between her clenched teeth. "Do that again and you will be given to the Hounds this very night."

Sin nodded discreetly and walked slowly, her heart was already beating furiously, her mind raced. Verain was here in this very room. The breath-taking sight of the Lords and Ladies paled in comparison to this. Her feet luxuriated in the feel of the floor which was both cool and smooth; she set about the perimeter of the room half veiled by the chiffon and muslin cloth curtains.

Someone thrust a silver cup beneath her nose. "Fill it." The voice was cold and precise; she lifted her jug with a little difficulty and poured the thick wine up to the brim.

The Lord moved away and she was once more permitted to walk.

She tried as far as she dared to spy Verain from the corners of her eyes but she could not distinguish one man from another without being able to lift her chin.

She served and served until her jug was near empty which put an ease on her arms for which she was grateful. She listened to the Lords and Ladies with the strange inflection in their accents congratulate one another and praise one another and laugh heartily. The music remained upbeat and hypnotic.

Perhaps it was their beauty, all pale and beautifully sculpted features, the gleam of their attire or jewels they did seem a different species to Sin. Creatures of great gaiety and mystery. Their voices were like music too. And for a time it was a pleasant thing to be in the company of deities.

The slaves moved back and forth, the new ones marked by a more reticent step and the red dresses; eager to please the Lords and Ladies who paid them all little mind.

"More wine." A voice Sin recognised, she lifted her jug to pour into a golden chalice held by the elegant hand of the lady Pearl herself. Sin saw a flash of cheek coloured with too much wine.

Beside Pearl, Sin was painfully aware of Verain. Of course she would find him by the Lady's side, it provoked her jealousy and she clumsily spilled the last of her wine over Pearl's hand. Pearl gave an indignant scream. "You idiot." She flung a hand out to strike Sin but Verain caught her hand and lifted it to his mouth, drinking the spilt wine from the Lady's pale hand.

Pearl blushed prettily and Sin fell into a kneeling position glad to turn her gaze away from them both.

"Let's not spoil tonight because of a little clumsiness." Verain murmured to her. "It is a good night and we shall remain intent on keeping it so."

Sin shuddered at the thought of them together, too easily imagined because the vision of them was often in her dreams. She remained kneeling for some time and exhaustion set deep into her bones and she closed her eyes for a moment longer than she ought to.

"You are positively giddy, Pearl." It was Lucerne's voice.

"Your feasts are most enjoyable." She replied with a seething edge of bitterness.

"And the wine too, I see."

Pearl made an indignant sound and threw the chalice to the ground it rolled toward Sin and she heard rather than saw Pearl march away, her dainty slippers slapping on the ground with no illusion of elegance now.

"Give me the cup." Lucerne said with cool authority.

Sin grasped the cup which was deceptively heavy; she stood to pass it to his hand, and they eyes met. He regarded her with a curious expression, their finger brushed, his skin was icy cold against her own and she gasped. "I see." He said, eyes not for a moment leaving hers.

His eyes were the fathomless depths of the ocean, so deep they were black but in another instant blue. Squalls rolled through the landscape of his gaze betraying nothing but the great force of will and authority he held over Elysion. Sin was captured by the swarthy depths of them, frightened by the crushing weight of them. He was Dis incarnate, though the beauty of his face spoke of Apollis.

"Ah, Lucerne." A tall, dark figure outside of Sin's vision appeared to clap Lucerne heartily on the back and Lucerne allowed himself to be guided away.

Sin watched him move, the shadow of his presence receded allowing her to breathe once again but her eyes found Verain who was staring at her from a distance, his eyes as bright as treasures.

She looked away, afraid to betray herself, but instead saw the haunted face of her little sister. Sorrow. She gasped, a hand flying to her mouth to still the trembling of her lips and tongue. Sorrow stared at her brazenly; she was on hands and knees completely nude save for the bejewelled leash at her throat. Tears filled Sin's eyes but did not fall.

Someone grasped Sin's shoulder and she jumped. Maistresse Dolly was at her side. "Take the jug back to the kitchen."

In their walk to the feast Dolly had explained how to find the way to the kitchens which were a series of interconnecting rooms, the place of which she mentioned was reserved for the bottling and serving of drink. Sin nodded to show she understood and went in search of the door to the slave path.

She stepped into the cool darkness of the corridoor and released a shaky breath.

"Careful." A voice sprang from the dark and she dropped the jug to the ground but it was already held low so did not crack as she feared it might. She spun round, her back against the bricks, she tried and failed to see who it was that loomed over her.

"Didn't I warn you before?" It was Verain, she recognised his voice then as she knew her own breath.

He continued to lean over her, his arms braced on either side of her head and she could feel the heat of his breath on her face and taste the spice of the wine he had consumed. "To be careful."

"I'm s-sorry." She stammered barely aware of what she was saying, too entranced by his proximity.

"For what?" He asked his mouth hovering over hers.

She was overcome by longing, willing him to kiss her, to touch her, to consume her. Frightened and dazed she feared being discovered and her fear made her bold for but a moment. "Shouldn't you be attending your Lady?" Her voice came out harsher than she intended.

Verain withdrew his hands and made a hiss deep in his throat. He suddenly thrust his face so close she feared he would harm her. "Go to your task, slave." He growled and he suddenly disappeared leaving her swaying on her feet.

Bereft of his presence she dazedly picked up her jug and walked a zig zag path through the darkness.

* * *

Sin was kneeling, the jug by her side for she was unable to carry it further. She felt her eyes drift closed, her head dip as she passed into a tentative sleep.

As the morning came on the lords and ladies retired. Sin was one of several new slaves who were kneeling unobtrusively about the perimeter of the hall. The music had softened to a melodic lull and it had helped to lead Sin to surrender to her exhaustion.

Her limbs ached deeply from roaming and pouring, careful not to spill, each tip of her jug made her hold her breath and bite her tongue trying ever so hard to be _careful._

She did not see Verain or Sorrow again. Instead she had time to study in sly glances, the faces of the Lords and Ladies and each face was worthy of devotion. Each wore the face of her own gods, the twinkling eye of Doric the god of wheat and grain, the luscious lips of Dion the god of revelry.

How could she have ever feared them? She had prayed to them since her lips had been able to form words. They walked in grace and beauty, their mirth the simple kind that even slaves could express. The longer she spent amongst them, amongst the perfume and melody of their spells she was lured into a false sense of warmth and safety.

Steeped in an embryonic sense of safety she allowed herself to slip into sleep...

Cold fingertips gripped her chin and forced her head up. Her eyes opened but unfocused she tumbled onto hands and knees with only the grip on her face keeping her head still. "Shall I be kind? What think you?" Lucerne glared down at her. "I am your lord and Maegester and yet you do not assemble as you should."

"Forgive me." She said in a breathy whisper as she struggled to maintain her balance beneath his grip.

"I have killed a calf for lesser things."

He released her and she gathered her shaky limbs into the kneeling position, careful to gather her long hair in a single twist and drape over one shoulder to bear the right side of her body.

"Maistresse Dolly." Lucerne called and the woman appeared on his command. "Is this it?"

"Yes, my lord." Dolly said, her voice quavering with dread.

"The late arrival of this bounty was not unnoticed."

"Apologies, my lord but I was told the journey to the House was made difficult by disrepair in the slave roads."

Lucerne cast a cold glare on her. "Do you mean to say that my House is in disrepair?"

"No, my Lord."

"I am disappointed in you, Dolly."

Dolly flushed, her features turned crimson with shame and fear.

"I will see this one in my chambers at nightfall." Lucerne said taking a lock of Sin's hair, sniffing the perfume and agitating the pearls tangled in the strands. The tug on her scalp made her shiver and another shaky breath passed her lips. "Promptly, Dolly."

"Yes, my Lord."

* * *

Updated 01/04/2012

Miss S


	11. Eleven Update 01 04 2012

Eleven

* * *

Sin could not stop the guilty pounding of her heart, her lips fluttering with prayers as she sat in the semi-darkness with a dozen glittering eyes of other girls staring back at her. She turned her face to the grey wall and tried to hold the panic at bay, soon she would be called to serve the Lord of the House. She was possessed by a nervous shivering that set the beads in her hair to clicking.

"What's wrong with her?" One girl whispered to another.

She had been delivered back to the dormitory when the last Lord had departed the feasting hall. Then slaves fell upon the room to arrange it for the following night of festivities.

Sin sat with tears wet on her cheeks; she continued to pray but was divided between the Bright goddess and the Dark. She thought of Sorrow's face, drawn in distress, her limbs skinny from lack of food and thought death would be better than the attentions of the House.

How could those who wore the faces of gods be so cruel and yet so beautiful?

Maistresse Dolly swept into the room looking around purposefully and finding Sin seated in a lonely corner. "Come with me." She said and crooked a finger.

Sin obeyed, steeling herself, trying to control her ragged breaths and ignore the sting of the other slaves' gazes.

Dolly was in a black mood, dark circles shadowed her eyes, and her lip was raised in an unconscious snarl. Sin followed but in an effort to distract herself softly asked. "Where are the other girls, Maistresse?"

"What?"

"It is only that there were more of us when we came into the House."

"Keep your peace and don't test me, girl."

Sin pressed her chin to her chest and lowered her eyes.

Dolly led her to a preparation chamber, the yew-wood door embossed with an Aster flower. Inside the three surrounding walls were floor to ceiling shelves housing a myriad of colourful sumptuous and exotic fabrics, ornately designed vials of perfume and a wall dedicated varying sizes of wooden boxes, some were elaborately carved with flowers and figures and fantastic landscapes.

Sin obediently sat on a wooden stool whilst Dolly took hold of her hair which was long and knotted from the day's activity. She patiently removed the pearls woven into the strands, discarding them carelessly on the floor.

The heady mixture of perfumes was unpleasant and it made Sin's throat itch.

"Hold still." Dolly hissed.

"Forgive me, Maistresse."

"You girls from Meridianus and your fanciful ideas of souls and gods." Dolly clucked her tongue in disapproval but her tone was one of motherly affection. She worked patiently with Sin's knotted hair and Sin did her best not to show her pain. "I must admit it has been a long time since one has come to the House, since..." She trailed off.

It piqued Sin's curiosity.

"What are they, Maistresse?" Shy but bold enough to speak; she motioned with a small gesture to the shelves of boxes.

Dolly raised her eyes for a brief instant. "They're…jewellery boxes."

Surely the Maistressees of the House would not put their precious stones on shelves where the slaves could reach them. "Who do they belong to?" She wondered aloud.

Dolly sighed. "If ever the Lords or Ladies take a liking to a slave they may favour her with jewels and each gift is stored in such a box."

"And are these all their favoured girls?"

Dolly hesitated. "You ask far too many questions."

"I wish only to understand." Sin said in an apologetic tone.

"Curiosity is a dangerous thing. Surely Ankti has beaten the curiosity out of all her girls, she has never been known to fail in her duty." Dolly said tugging on her hair with the brush but there was no real menace in her voice. "I should hand you over to the Hounds right now."

Whilst Sin contemplated Dolly's words, she did not fret over the seemingly idle threat. She allowed herself to day dream, whilst Dolly's fussing had made her hair smooth like a brown silken banner that lay elegantly down her back.

"Will I ever have a moment to myself, Maistresse?"

"Don't be ridiculous."

"But if I wanted to explore the grounds-?"

"Don't even think it." Dolly said tugging on Sin's hair. "Who you've known as a sister is now a faceless slave. You have no kin, do you understand? You have no will. Put it far from your mind and do as you are commanded."

Sin's posture sagged and her eyes filled with frustrated tears.

"Come." Dolly said and laid a hand on her bare shoulder.

"What is expected of me, Maistresse?" She asked the sense of uncontrollable panic rose up again.

"You will do whatever the Maegester wishes, girl."

Sin's mouth opened and closed in paroxysms. "What will they ask of me?" She whispered.

"Do not concern yourself with fear. Perhaps you have failed to grasp Ankti's lessons after all." Dolly sighed. "You are an instrument of your Maegester's will. You will do whatever they ask you to do and you shall be glad for it."

Sin stood and allowed Dolly to tie a new chiffon dress in the same fashion as the red but this time a luxurious sky blue that floated beautifully about her. Dolly assessed her carefully, re-doing the knots until she was pleased. "It is well done." She said and clapped her hands together. "Night has fallen and the Lord Lucerne beckons, remember your lessons, girl for they will serve you now."

Sin nodded and fear rose in her throat once more.

* * *

Sin's entrance was heralded by Dolly's timid knock on the door; the wood had been embossed with a tiger lily. She wondered at the meaning of the flowers upon the doors, a minor distraction from the unknown terror to come.

"Enter." Came Lucerne's unmistakable command and a shiver of fear and anticipation went through her body.

Dolly opened the door and gestured for Sin to enter the room and the door was closed quietly behind her. Her eyes were set to the ground, using the shapes of shadows on the carpet to guide her slow deliberate step toward the Lord of the House.

A melodic chorus of giggles welcomed her and she blushed. The scent of fruity perfumes assaulted her senses, candle smoke and spicy wine and something else, a mere whisper of something rotten beneath it. She wanted so desperately to raise her eyes and look around.

There were many shapes in the shadows, feminine shapes in different poses, she watched as one raised a glass to its mouth.

Sin stood as she had been taught, her fingers wringing together nervously. She was oblivious to the six pairs of silver eyes moving slyly, possessively over the flushed flanks of slave flesh. The six Lords were sat or sprawled on chairs and couches, golden cups in their long tapered fingers.

"Kneel." Lucerne said and she summoned all the grace she could and knelt as she had been taught, draping her silken hair over one shoulder to expose the clean line of her throat. The infuriating laughter again, the other girls were amused for she was not scented, oiled nor bejewelled as they were.

Sin lifted her eyes irresistibly, looking at one corner and then another. She found the women's faces delicately veiled, each was of an exquisite beauty that the thin chiffon could not disguise and they were all jewelled at the wrist and throat but perfectly nude otherwise.

She found some women standing free of veils, dreamy smiles adorned their lips and their hair was loose and brushed and gleaming, plaited with jewels.

Sin was used to kneeling for long hours, but her panic was like the beating of a bird's wings trapped in a small and inadequate cage.

The Lord of Elysion approached her, her eyes dropped instantly, staring at his deer skin boots and black breeches wrapped like a second skin about his calves. He stood very close in front of her, almost too close and she rocked back on her heels. "Stand." His pale hand came into view and she took it, shivering at the icy feel of his skin. He helped her to her feet and found herself looking up into Lucerne's mercurial gaze that she had little doubt could strip a man's skin from its bones.

He released her and she swayed slightly on her feet, he stalked around her as elegant and dangerous as a fabled beast. He tugged at a length of fabric at her back and the dress was suddenly undone, falling about her feet like the petals of a flower.

"Have you ever seen such a calf?" He asked warmly.

Her eyes lowered demurely, afraid to see the expression of the other more seasoned slaves who whispered to one another, criticising one thing or another about her. Lucerne's hand slid over her bare backside and she startled, he chuckled which brought another tinkle of laughter.

Cool fingertips skimmed lightly over her collarbone and then beneath her chin forcing her face upwards, her eyes met the icy cool desolation of his gaze and he looked as hungry as a beast and she trembled, provoking his appetites.

He struck her lightly, a jarring blow but nothing terribly painful. "Do not look at me." He growled with no real menace, she did not see his fangs elongate or his eyes become solid spheres of silver.

The other slaves supressed another giggle but this time Sin was too scared to feel humiliated. Her cheek burned, her vision blurred with tears for she didn't wish to displease her Maegester and she thought he liked her small reactions to his touch and his stare.

_I am completely at your will,_ she thought. _I will do anything you ask._

Lucerne smiled and it was dawn light breaking over distant mountain peaks. A breath shuddered passed her lips and his fingertip slid across her bottom lip and pinched her skin hard until she whimpered.

"My little calf." He said with affection. "You will be mine and mine alone."

A part of her sang, _yes._ Another part despaired.

He turned his back on her and she couldn't resist taking a look, she was enrapt by the width of his shoulders, the corded muscles and slender waist beneath the thin muslin shirt. Desire sang in her veins, it overrode her fear and like a song, Lucerne's lips moved to speak and she hung as delicate as a drop of dew upon a leaf awaiting his instruction.

"Take this one away." Lucerne said.

She lost her breath, her anticipation crushed and a blush of shame coloured her face. She forgot herself and turned her eyes around the room, taking in the cruel and lustful silver stare of the Lords of Elysion and the slack and malicious smiles of their slaves.

She caught sight of a girl whose head was thrown back; paint vainly disguised darkening circles beneath her eyes, half-lidded, mouth slack in the throes of passion. Other girls were languid and enthralled their cheeks flushed with pride and pleasure that Sin would be denied. For within the House, the Maegesters were revered and adored, they were not lofty and feared unto gods as they were in the Hold.

Any envy Sin had felt now depleted with the grim realisation of their greying flesh, their lips bright with rouge but not blood, their skin adorned with jewels but only to disguise the angry red welts left by teeth, hands and other things.

She turned to leave, the door gaping open, waiting for her to escape through. She lifted her eyes and saw Verain in the distance, standing beneath a swathe of shadow, his golden eyes burning like embers, his lip lifted in a scowl.

* * *

The sleeping quarters had no windows, the room was airless and there was no light just the seething breath of fretful slaves, the soft groans of fitful sleep. Sin's hands were clasped together, offering feeble whispers of thanks to her gods for another day and another night.

Sin did not know what hour she had been relieved of service but her eyes ached with the effort to remain open, her limbs ached with the effort to remain kneeling before her bunk.

"Shut up." One of the girls hissed, breath ragged with sleep.

She continued nonetheless, forming the words in her mind and offering her tongue and hands to the gods for a peaceful passing. Always for a peaceful passing.

She didn't know when she had passed into sleep, somewhere between invoking the blessing of Artum and Irkalla she opened her eyes and found herself in the Hound's glade but it was dark and the foliage glowed, emerald embers and deep dark shadows stretched.

She could hear the growl of the beast before she saw it. She saw its pelt flashing like quicksilver through the thick tangle of black trees, she could feel its anger, and the dreamscape shivered with the beast's raw emotion. Verain jumped from between two dark spaces and landed, mouth hanging, breath ragged, teeth bared, eyes hot with hatred.

Sin swallowed her voice quavering. "I have no choice, you know this."

The wolf growled in response, his breath was hot on her face; the underlying scent of blood made her eyes water. She reached out, her hand trembling and laid tentative fingertips on his nose sliding up and down his fur that felt like velvet. "My will is not my own."

He growled and she felt the vibration roll through her flesh, she shuddered, eyes closing, afraid he would take her between his teeth. When she opened her eyes Verain the Fair sat in front of her. She realised not for the first time that he was a creature more kin to gods than men and she feared him. She desired him too.

"Did he touch you?" He asked through clenched teeth.

Sin lowered her lashes. "Not in the way you think."

"Do you know what I think?"

She hesitated and then boldly stared into his eyes. "Yes."

He leaned toward her and she leant back to evade him. "You are scared of me."

"Yes." She confirmed in a whisper.

There was silence as they gazed at each other.

"Could you help me?" She asked. "You have freedom to walk wherever you wish, Maistress Ankti told me so. Could you help me find my sister?"

He continued to lean toward her until they were so close she thought they would kiss, he had done the same on the feast night and she wanted him to kiss her, she wanted him to claim her in the way that would be forbidden in reality. "Tell me your name." He whispered.

She opened her mouth to shape the word. Her name. Something she could share with him and him alone. It was a small price to pay to be reunited with Sorrow.

She jolted awake at the sensation of a sharp metallic tip pressing into the soft part beneath her chin.

Torn rudely from her dream she found herself half collapsed across her bunk, hands loosely clasped together, her cheek pressed against the rough woollen bed sheet. One of the girls held a crude knife at her throat, eyes glittering green and poisonous, her teeth clenched together in unabashed fury.

"Do you think yourself better than us because you've been called for by the Maegester himself?" She hissed.

Sin swallowed and felt the knife point breach her skin and blood trickled down her chin to stain her bunk.

"You'll get no special treatment from us."

Sin didn't know quite what to do, her eyes fled to the darkness, making out the shadow figures of the other girls standing in support of their sister who held the knife unforgivingly at Sin's throat.

After a long intense glare, the girl removed the knife and Sin sat up staring at them all. The green-eyed girl grasped her hair and yanked it hard. Sin cried out and the girl released her, fearing to rouse attention, they scrambled back to their bunks.

"They're not the only ones you should fear." The green eyed girl said before going back to her bed.

Sin was shivering from a cold that embraced her very bones, slowly she climbed on her bunk, wrapping her arm around her knees and lay her head on her arms. She kept her eyes open until she could not possibly resist falling into the beckoning blackness of a dreamless sleep.

* * *

Updated 01/04/2012

Miss S


	12. Twelve Update 01 04 2012

Twelve

* * *

Morning light spilled through the stained glass window of the women's hall, making a kaleidoscope of colours across floor. Linnea sat at her gilded harp, her pale slender fingers elegantly picking out a pleasant melody on the strings. Her eyes were half closed, her lips pursed together as she allowed herself to become the melody.

Young Larcia sat nearby, with needle and silver thread she patiently embroidering her bedclothes for her husband. "It is beautiful, my Lady." She complimented without looking up from her stitching.

There was a dry clap heralding the entrance of Lux, Linnea's head snapped toward him. "Men are not permitted here." Linnea said coldly.

Lux ignored Linnea and looked meaningfully at Larcia who promptly gathered her sewing and left the room, picking up her skirts to scurry across the floor. White hot rage possessed Linnea but didn't embarrass herself by shouting.

"You do play wonderfully." He said and took a seat on Larcia's stool, staring up at her adoringly. "Once it was not always so."

Linnea grit her teeth and tried to deny the memories that rose to her mind's eye: Linnea, Lucerne and Lux had always been together in childhood but moreso Lux and Linnea had been a pair, beloved by their father, basking in the love of the house. She remembered how care free she used to be, how they used to run in the forest, run on the beach, hand in hand. Together…

"I am glad to hear of my improvement." She said softly.

"I wish to thank you for a wonderful feast last night."

"It was Lucerne's feast for you." She said curtly and poised her fingertips on the strings.

"Your company was invaluable." The heat in his voice brought her trembling fingers and she began to clumsily pluck a simple tune to disguise her nerves.

"I met our sister-in-law."

"Oh yes?" Linnea scoffed. "Lady Pearl."

"She is…"

"Extraordinary." Linnea finished for him. They often used to finish one another's sentences in their youth and they shared a smile now. Linnea caught herself and schooled her face into implacable lines. They sat in silence for several moments.

"I shall leave you to your women's business." He said and left abruptly.

Her playing faded once he closed the door behind him. She rested her head against the harp and closed her eyes, allowing the emotions to slide through her and away from her. Foolish to think she could simply relinquish her feelings.

She hated Lux as much as she was compelled by him. She had not grown out of the strange infatuation that bound them closely together. His gaze alone could command her will and it took every shred of her being to resist it.

Larcia knocked gently on the door before entering the hall, her arms full of her bedclothes, a needle clamped between her teeth. "May I?" She asked her voice muffled around the needle.

"Of course." Linnea said and struck the strings discordantly.

She tried to claim back the serenity that Lux had robbed from her, and laid her fingers upon the strings once more. She hated how she could not still the wild beating of her heart when he was near, the swell of memories, the bitter sweet feelings that crept up on her.

She scowled at her harp and began to play something intricate and intense to match her mood and Larcia resumed her stitching in silence.

* * *

Verain sat on his heels before the altar of Sylvia. His arms were spread wide, his palms face upward, his chin lifted to the oculus and his prayers floated toward the mysterious moon.

Patterns had been cut out of the ceiling, a full moon with crescents cut either side of it so the light of the day and by night the moon would spill on the altar in the shape of Sylvia who would consume the offerings at her altar. Candle wax frothed like frozen tsunamis across the altar shelf, the few standing wicks had been lit and more wax bled in sympathy.

There was a basin was filled to the brim with flowers pilfered from the House. Jasmine, roses, hibiscus…

There were no carved effigies for Sylvia hung in the skies above, the immortal mother of Hounds calling them with her gentle light, commanding the tides, the winds, the elements that battled across all of Elysion.

Verain's eyes were firmly shut. The face of that slave girl haunted him, taking on the likeness of Sylvia until they were indivisible in his mind's eye.

Frustrated he turned his prayers toward The Silent One, the father of Hounds who also known as the Great Hunter and the Frist Wolf. He was the lover of the moon and mover of shadows, the largest and most powerful of Hounds.

The religion of the Hounds was as intricate but unique from the slaves: their gods were not shared but locked in fierce contest.

Verain had been praying for hours, his mind half dreaming, unbidden thoughts of the slave girl tripping into his prayers, his dreams and even now in his waking hours.

A hand rested heavily on his shoulder and he startled. "Verain." He glanced up to find his grandfather, the aged Hound, Voris.

"The lady of House is searching for you." The old man murmured, his face has fallen with age, there were deep creases in his face that had but a trace of the handsome chiselled Hound he had once been.

Verain sighed heavily and lowered his hands, feeling the ache spread in his shoulders as he had kept the pose for hours.

"Woe unto you, my son who must serve such a pearl of heaven." Voris patted Verain's shoulder, a smile at the corner of his mouth.

"You would not think her such a treasure if you had to serve her personally." Verain mumbled bitterly thinking only of the weary up and downs of the lady Pearl's moods.

Voris chuckled and offered a quick prayer, laying a kiss upon his fingertips and laying them against Sylvia's altar.

Verain stood and stretched his aching limbs and a series of clicks sounded. He thought a morning of prayer would help dispel the mix of anger and desire that made his blood boil. He could not remove the sight of the lamp light gleaming off the naked line of her back.

"I can see you are troubled. You have been for some time now."

Verain shook his head. "You would think me mad."

Voris chuckled again. "I have seen too much already, my son. I do not think there is anything that would cause me to think you had lost your mind."

Verain laughed too but there was no mirth in it. He could not bring himself to tell his grandfather about the slave girl who had a name, the sliver of her back, the soft whisper of hair drawn away from her neck…a pearl of heaven. He shook his head in an effort to clear his mind and walked with his grandfather into the courtyard.

The place allotted for the Hounds was far less opulent than the House itself but it was well made with stone buildings filled with bunks, there were two baths, a dining hall and two altars dedicated to Sylvia. The foxglove and the moonflower were embossed on their doors.

Verain lifted his eyes which were squinting against the bright midday sun. Down the colonnade he could see the silhouette of a mounted man wearing the red robes of a steward.

His skin damp with sweat, he went to the water barrel and doused himself in icy cold water, brushing his hair from his face, allowing the sun to dry him. "You will be in the lower forests tonight." Voris reminded him.

"I welcome it." He said. Anything to put distance between him and the House. Despite his favour in the House he was still a Hound and he belonged to the wilds of the forest land and the slopes of the mountain.

Sorken was lounging in the courtyard beneath an awning, out of the glare of the midday sun. He bared his teeth at Verain, his eyes glowing hot with hatred, their gazes met briefly and a growl vibrated passed the older Hound's lips in warning.

It was no secret that the others did not like Verain, they mocked him for his fair looks and the special favour he held amongst the Maegesters. Verain could go where they could not, they accused him of being tame, and thought him weak.

When Verain was a pup he had found it difficult amongst the others, they had said he was not like the rest, that he was different and that he was less than them. But they would not challenge him for he had grown in such a striking wolf who echoed tales of the looks of the Great Hunter himself.

"Perhaps the last bout has injured his brain. He was born bitter from the womb." Voris murmured in Verain's ear and patted his shoulder, which caused him to smile which infuriated the other Hounds. "Go tend to the woman."

Sorken's greatest hopes were that he could meet Verain in an exhibition where the Lamia pit Hound against Hound.

Verain jogged up the gentle slope of the colonnade toward the mounted steward who struggled to keep his horse in check. "Well met, Hound." The steward said from between gritted teeth.

Verain reached out to grasp the horse's bridle and the horse steadied instantly, he blew gently on its snout and it whickered softly. "Gentle old boy." He murmured and rubbed its snout. "The lady has risen early today." He said conversationally.

"She is a most disagreeable mood." The steward replied his dislike of the Lady Pearl noticeable in his tone.

Verain could only guess at Pearl's displeasure, Lucerne had been feasting for days, drinking deep of blood wine and dallying with his slaves. He remembered the sight of the girl's eyes the brown of Elysion soil, the parting of her lips and then thought of a Lamia hand gripping her skin without mercy…he grit his teeth.

"It seems you are the only one who can calm her."

When Pearl had first come to Elysion, Verain had been on the dock at Lucerne's shoulder. From beneath a lacy parasol her pale face had been revealed and she was delicate and beautiful and all that had been promised to the Lord of Elysion.

Though Pearl made no secret of her dislike of the Hounds, she had taken a liking to Verain which only grew in her pursuit to displease her husband. Pearl was from a strange land and not used to the ways of Elysion even after more than year in residence, Verain had taken pity on her and could not deny her obvious charms.

His thoughts turned irresistibly to the slave girl, first coming upon her in the forest by Meridianus, her features drawn in distress and her cheeks dark with soil. He could remember the flicker of her lashes, the way her mouth had trembled, the taste of her as he…

"This is where we part ways." The steward gestured with his chin. "She is walking in the rose garden."

Verain felt his cheeks flush with colour. He patted the horse's flank as the steward guided it away. He was still surprised to know the girl was alive and yet not at all, he saw the spark of Sylvia in her, the same spark that commanded his attention.

He headed around the house, passing the neatly trimmed topiary that lead a path to the main entrance. Hounds were stationed around the perimeter but they paid him no mind, save for the knowing smirks and baring of sharp teeth.

He could smell Pearl before he could see her, her perfumed was like no others, more fragrant than the white roses in full bloom. The white rose garden was cleverly constructed into a maze, a pleasant distraction constructed in honour of Lucerne's mother upon her passing long before Verain was born.

Pearl stood in a sari of blue silk embroidered with gold threads; her flawless pale skin was as enticing as the petal of one of the white roses. Her golden hair was tied back from her face, exposing her features which were pinched with annoyance.

She held a leash in her hand, a golden leather lead that lead to a collar fastened about the throat of a dark haired slave on hands and knees, her face was turned down toward the grass. This must be the sister the slave spoke of. _Could you help me find my sister?_ He felt a modicum of pity for her, thinking how she had been given to Sorken.

Pearl tugged on the leash cruelly and the girl collapsed across the ground in a pile of skinny limbs. "You're late." She stared at him with eyes narrowed to slits.

He held up his hands in surrender. "Forgive me, I came as soon as I was told."

"You should stay in the House to be closer to me." She admonished her tone becoming airy. "I could have chambers prepared for you-"

"No, my Lady." He said quickly. The slave on the leash was back on hands and knees and she visibly flinched. "I am humbled by your offer but it is rightful that I stay with my people."

She sniffed. "We will talk again on this matter, I think."

He made a bow.

Pearl stroked the girl's hair absently and he saw the girl struggled not to shy away. Maybe in a stolen moment he could ask the name of her sister, for they bore too much a resemblance to be of any other kinship.

She reminded him distantly of his own mother who had also served the House, she had been a Hound on a leash and the personal slave of Lucerne. Verain had not known his mother, she had died giving birth to him, they had to cut her belly to retrieve him, he had been told she had not the will to live and so succumbed to death with a smile upon her lips.

She had been a notorious beauty, he supposed that's why Lucerne had liked her and why Lucerne tolerated the tantrums of his young bride.

"You look so serious, Verain." Pearl whispered.

"Forgive me." He said distractedly.

"I am thinking about travelling down the hills." She said. "Perhaps we could take a rest and eat."

"I should go fetch-"

She touched his arm, her fingers small and touch delicate. She smiled sweetly up at him, a strange feeling overcame him as her Power worked upon him yet again. "Walk with me."

He offered his arm and they walked the spiral of the maze, he admired the flowers in full bloom, the garden was a slice of the celestial. Between the bending boughs of two willows which form an entrance to the garden, Lord Lucerne appeared with a stern expression. His eyes were as bright as light upon a blade and his gaze shifted from Pearl to Verain and back again.

Pearl's grip tightened on Verain's arm and her smile took a keen edge.

"I would you attend me today, Verain I am gathering to Lords of Elysion this evening for a conference."

Pearl's expression became angered, she glared at Verain. "It will have to wait. Verain is accompanying me today."

Lucerne face was a cool implacable mask, Verain knew it well. With a bow he left Pearl's side, Pearl stared after him with a tremble of her lips and then her gaze drifted to her husband's eyes and a silent battle ensued between their stares.

"Are you enjoying yourself here, my dove?" Lucerne's voice was not as sweet as his words.

Pearl gritted her teeth, one pale hand closed into a fist.

"I see you have found some pleasant distractions." His eyes followed Verain's path and then fell upon the bowed head of her slave. "Have I not given you all that I promised?"

Lucerne grasped her chin and forced her face upward for him to better inspect her, he examined her eyes and his lips were cruel. "Perhaps now is the time for you to give me what you have promised."

She made an indelicate sound. "I am not one of your whores."

"No." He acknowledged. "You are not here for my pleasure; you are here for a graver purpose, Pearl. I will visit you tonight."

"I will be busy."

"No you won't." He said meaningfully and walked away.

Lucerne halted when he found Linnea standing at the mouth of the garden, a perfect vision of loveliness; she stood staring at him with wisdom only a sister had for a brother. "You should be more delicate with her, Luc." She said and touched his arm gently. "She is the daughter of a King."

Lucerne smiled grimly. "I appreciate your concern, sister but I can handle my wife."

"I'm sure." She withdrew her hand to hug herself.

"I will be holding a conference tonight." He said.

"And will you be inviting Lux?"

Lucerne shook with rage though his voice remained calm. "I will not."

"How long is he to dally with us, Luc?"

"Until he wears out his welcome." Which, Linnea was sure, he had already done.

* * *

The dark embrace of her dreams was rudely breached as Sin was shaken, she woke with a cry dying on her tongue and she found a dark skinned slave girl glaring down at her. "There's work to do." She hissed.

Sin got up sluggishly, her limbs felt laden down, she moved to the bath with notions of bathing. The basin was brimming with greasy water; she could trace whorls of oil rippling on the surface. Dipping a cloth into the icy water she tried to wipe away the lingering perfume and sweat from her skin.

An ivory silk chiton was laid on her bunk when she returned. She slipped into the fabric and knotted her hair behind her neck, feeling a little more herself.

The girl was waiting for her at the door, her skinny dark arms folded in front of her chest her expression grim.

"Thank you." Sin said softly.

The girl snorted and led the way, walking faster than Sin could stride and she had to run to catch up. She spilled into the room of tables where other girls were sitting, their eyes all turned at her ungraceful entrance and her cheeks flushed.

"Glad you could join us." A matronly woman standing with arms akimbo glared down at her. "Find a seat. Quickly."

Sin sat down hastily only to find herself next to the red-headed slave with the green eyes who had threatened her at night. The girl's nose lifted haughtily in the air and she glanced slyly from the corner of her eye at Sin.

Sin tried to concentrate on the woman who was giving lengthy instructions on kitchen, garden and cleaning duties about the House. Sin tried to discreetly stifle a yawn.

"Do I bore you?"

She looked up at the woman's florid features.

"Apologies." She murmured and her cheeks burned with shame. She had had little sleep, between the nightmares, the angry slaves and the Lord of Elysion there was no rest to be had.

"No one will have special treatment here." The woman cast her rheumy gaze to all the girls. "We must all work hard for the greater glory of the House."

Sin was assigned duties in the kitchen, nothing heavy nor hard, nothing that would alter her for the service of Lucerne himself. Sin moved without complaint, glad to escape the baleful stares of the other girls.

The kitchen was large, far from the pit and clay pots of the slave hold. It was an intricate network of different preparation rooms connected by passages, one for poultry, another for red meat, another for herbs and even one for wine.

She was taken to a corner by a stairwell, between the room of wine and baking oven. Heat and the delicious fragrance of baking bread cloyed in the patisserie causing her stomache to clench in hunger.

A round bodied girl, whose sleeves were rolled to the elbow her wrists buried in dough, her hair was tied high on her head, exposing features flushed in distress, and she was totally absorbed with the labour of kneading.

She was making sweets for the house, the sugary scent made Sin's mouth fill with saliva. Her stomach growled again unapologetically and it roused the girl's attention, flashing bright blue eyes and a heart shaped mouth contorted with displeasure.

Sin opened her mouth to greet the girl but she held up a large hand to stay her words.

In a guttural language Sin did not understand she motioned to a pile of strawberries and a small fruit knife. "Schnitt." The girls said and waved her hands impatiently. "Schnitt."

Sin took the knife and stared at the strange red fruit.

The girl sighed and plucked one of the little fruits in her palm. "Erdbeere." She said.

Sin picked up a cool little erdbeere and cut the fruit in half. The girl nodded, satisfied, she turned her back to Sin and Sin continued to slice the vaguely heart-shaped fruit into halves. She was tempted to try a piece, mesmerised by the colour and texture of its flesh. She slipped a piece between her lips.

The girl clucked her tongue and pointed at her with a rolling pin. "Nein."

"I haven't eaten-"

"Nein." The girl said again with an aggravated sigh, her rolling pin raised in the air as if she were brandishing a whip.

Sin held her arms up as if she were trying to sooth a beast. "Peace." She said and pushed the rolling pin down. "I'm sorry."

The girl heaved a sigh and turned her back to her work. Sin matched her sigh and turned back to her own work, moving methodically until she had filled three bowls of fruit and her stomach growled all the while whilst her fingertips turned red.

There was a commotion in the kitchen, finally something to interrupt the tedium, she turned to look and saw the round girl give a clumsy curtsey. Sin looked up to see Verain; she froze whilst the other slaves turned their faces to the ground.

"The Lords have asked for some refreshment." He said.

Her heart galloped at the sound of his voice.

The slaves moved deftly about the kitchen to arrange the concoction of rich red fluid, wine and honey, two Dacian girls took a large jug each into their arms.

"No." Verain said. "You." He pointed at Sin in her distant corner. "You will serve."

Sin stepped forward careful not to meet his eyes, her companion grunted something beneath her breath. She took a jug on her shoulder awaiting his instructions.

"They are in the main hall."

She led the way to the slave path through the wine cellar, the cold breath of the dark tunnel of the servant's trail caused her to shiver, she could feel Verain like a line of heat that throbbed at her back. She slowed her step, almost to halt and he bumped into her, his body pressing against her, his hot breath on her ear. "How do you do it?"

She tried to turn around but was too dark. "You walk in my dreams." His voice seemed to vibrate inside her, touching her intimate spaces.

"They're just dreams." She replied softly.

"Are they?"

She blushed.

"You smell the same as the girl from my dream." His face was suddenly close by hers, his breath warmed her cheeks.

"Have you seen my sister?" She spoke to conceal her nerves.

"Forget about her, she is beyond saving now." He said.

As if it were the simple. She was overcome, the jug slipping from her trembling hands but he caught it with ease and pressed in into her body.

"You should go." He said the warmth of him already receding as he disappeared, a shadow slinking into more shadows. She didn't want to move, she forced herself to thinking of what the Lords might do if they thought their refreshments were delayed.

She tried to pick up her pace but her legs felt weak. She passed from the slave path to the corridors.

"Stop."

She froze. She turned agonizingly slow to find the Lady Pearl standing, a magnificent vision as always, with Sorrow at the end of her leash. Sin dropped her gaze, barely able to resist the temptation to catch her sister's eye. Her sister's head was bowed, her expression veiled by her long brown hair which had become matted with lack of attention.

"Maistresse." She greeted with a poor curtsey.

"Where are you going?" Pearl's voice was cold and unfeeling but not without a musical quality.

"To serve the Lords of Elysion, Maistresse"

Pearl looked her up and down slowly; the ivory rags that made up the slave's dress barely disguised her comely shape, more woman than girl now. "I'm sure."

"I must go." She said softly caught between her fear of the Maegesters' wrath than Pearl's displeasure.

Pearl's approach was quick, too quick to discern and she slapped Sin so hard the girl's head snapped to one side, her blood beating heavy in her cheek. "Do not speak to me as if I were your equal."

"I am sorry, Maistresse." And she truly was.

"You are certainly sorry." Pearl said and walked away.

Sorrow lingered a moment. "Sin." She spoke her name and Sin was relieved to find her sister still had a voice, that a part of her had not been utterly crushed by the Lords and Ladies of the House. Sin wanted to say more but Pearl tugged on Sorrow's leash and Sin watched her scramble away.

With a sigh she turned to her duties.

* * *

She entered the hall, it had been transformed since the festivities having been cleared of all the merry decorations of the feast night, there was a table in the centre and elaborate seats for the twelve lords of Elysion. Lucerne sat at the head of it, a pale prince gleaming on his throne. She walked carefully trying not to make too much noise in her approach.

Lucerne turned his head, having known she was there all the while and she made her way to his side, careful not to look at the other men. She heaved the jug to pour wine into his empty glass, the mouth of the jug clinked against the lip of the glass. She could feel the eyes of the Lords looking at her, quietly peeved at the noise she was making.

She retreated and knelt, waiting to be excused by Lucerne.

Conversation resumed. "What is your counsel?"

"I agree with Domitian, you need to secure your lineage, if you do not allow Linnea to marry and Pearl cannot give you a child then it is time to consider other possibilities." Lord Caspar said, his aristocratic mouth upturned into a lascivious smile. "There is word of a lady of surpassing beauty. They say her womb is ripe-"

Lucerne laughed. "And how is this ripeness measured?"

Caspar's expression dropped. "She has had four children already."

"Aye and two husbands."

"I cannot divorce Pearl without dishonouring her." He mused. "And I cannot afford to have her father as an enemy. Marsigni holds too much sway over the Council."

"Then you have no choice but to minister your attentions to her rigorously and often." Domitian said.

A low grunt of laughter.

"Or take a consort."

"Or adopt a son."

Lucerne glared at Domitian, it was not that he was truly angry at his friend but his fondness for Linnea was not unnoticed. He also did not like the sound of adopting a son, it made Lux's presence on the island more poignant.

The fact Lux was here was a threat, after all the law still recognised him as Lauren's on and he could contest Lucerne's hold on Elysion. If Lux went on to have a legitimate Lamia heir then Lucerne could be deposed altogether. Lucerne could not expel him from the island immediately or it would rouse the suspicions of the Court.

Lucerne desired Luc to leave as much as he needed to know if Lux lusted after his seat of power.

Sin's stomach rumbled.

"Come." Lucerne's hand raised and beckoned her.

She hefted the jug and went to his side, ready to pour but he touched her wrist to stop her, he motioned for her to put the jug on the table. Holding her wrist in his cold hand he pulled her toward him and she was forced to perch on his lap, his thighs were solid and cool beneath her.

Lucerne picked a piece of bread from the bowl in front of him, he dipped it in olive oil and the bottom of the oil was red. He pushed the bread against her mouth, feeding her with his own hand and she ate it chewing slowly, surprised at the sweet taste of it.

Lucerne offered the merest hint of smile but it was cold, it didn't reach his eyes. "Are you hungry, my calf?"

Sin nodded, she felt compelled to do it and he fed her more bread. He even put the wine cup to her lips and she drank, just a mouthful, he would not allow more. The wine tasted odd, metallic, heavy...

The other Lords spoke amongst themselves not concerning themselves with talk of business with a slave perched on their Lord's knee. Lucerne stroked her cheek and she shuddered, he patted her flank and gave her a little push. "Leave us." He said to her.

She obeyed, picking up the jug and walking away, feeling the heat of the Lords' eyes on her. She had seen some of them half naked in repose with naked slaves bouncing on their knees; she shook her head to dispel the images and quickened her pace.

She lifted her eyes to see Verain approaching her, but his eyes were cast beyond her. His hand lightly brushed hers as he passed and she gasped; a burst of pure magic occurred on contact.

"Verain." Lucerne called.

"Coming, my lord." Verain continued, drawn by the Lord of Elysion's command.

Sin's world went supernova.

* * *

Updated 01/04/2012

Miss S


	13. Thirteen Update 01 04 2012

Thirteen

* * *

Sin was having a nightmare. The nightmare had teeth that sunk deep into the tissue of her arms, legs and throat. Teeth from the mouths of dark beings, woven of the blackest shadows, preying upon her like ravenous beasts. The pain was unbearable; her life was ebbing away like the fleeing of the ocean from the shore.

When Verain had brushed he arm, the merest touch of his bare skin had stolen her concentration, trembling possessed her and the jug had slipped from her hands. She fell to her knees, the pot shattered about her; a shard slicing deep into her arm and the blood flowed steady and bright. The Lords were upon her, she was overwhelmed as they stretched her limbs to sink their teeth into her flesh.

"Verain…" She heard her broken voice rasp the syllables of his name before her vision turned black.

"Maegester." Verain whispered, unable to move, unable to do anything but witness the butchering of the slave girl. "Get away from her." The voice was already half growl and he felt his body gripped by the immediacy of the change.

The wolf burst through his skin with purpose, the animal instinct consumed him, his teeth found purchase in the meat of a shoulder and he wrenched one vampire from the girl with considerable effort. The expression on the vampire's face was dazed, his mouth slack and painted in blood, silver eyes hooded, hurtling down the tunnel of his blood lust.

He wrestled each vampire until she was all but free but even the wolf hesitated before approaching Lucerne. Verain knew the slave's blood was rarely found in the House and its quality was like no other on Elysion, a trace of ichor ran in the veins of the Meridianus girls and their blood was like a drug to the vampires. They were rarely, if ever, allowed to serve in the House.

All but one vampire had been removed from her, a warning growled vibrated passed his lips, his sharp teeth exposed, it roused Lucerne's attention though his face was as slack and mystified as the others. His lips parted as if to speak but the blood had thoroughly taken hold of him and he fell away from the slave.

Verain felt himself change to a half formed Hound, where he was able to pick the girl up and he felt his limbs tremble as a strange magic possessed him, pulling him into another world, it took every shred of discipline to resist it and he fled from the hall with the girl in his arms.

He tried to calm his nerves, tried to command his body to change into human form though it was a slow transition.

"Verain." He flinched at the sound of his name and obediently paused in step to find Pearl standing there staring at him. "What have you got there?"

He had to steel himself, he turned, fully human now, and the blood of the girl and the vampires was bright across his body. "I'm in a hurry, Maistresse."

Pearl glared at him. "You are not in a hurry unless I say you're in a hurry, slave."

Verain's expression was cold but he did not respond. Pearl stepped forward to inspect Verain and the girl he held ever so gently in his arms. He saw the dainty tips of her sharp teeth appear, her eyes turning a silver brilliance and he growled in warning.

Pearl turned narrowed eyes up toward him. "I am the Lady of Elysion." She hissed.

He lowered his head, eyes to the ground but his grip on the girl tightened and she whimpered in pain.

Pearl looked grimly fascinated, warring between her lust for blood and the sickening sight of the gory couple. The girl looked as if she were dying, the beat of her blood waning, the breath rattling and faint passed her lips. She disliked the way Verain clung to the girl and with a vengeful glare she spoke. "Take her to my chambers."

Verain could barely restrain the urge to attack the Lady of Elysion, if it were not for the girl in his arms he would have done it.

Pearl had already turned her back to him and was walking swiftly toward her chambers, without any care for her pet that was all but dragged in her wake. Verain followed helplessly, unable to relinquish his hold on the slave girl. He kicked open the doors to Pearl's chambers and a fist of perfume thrust out to greet him, he snarled as he stepped inside, eyes sweeping over the empty opulence.

"The bed." Pearl said.

He laid the girl down gently her blood instantly soaked the covers. His arms felt bereft without her weight, he laid a blood stained hand on her brow and for an instant allowed himself to be dragged by the strange magic between them.

"Get out." Pearl said.

"Maistress-" He began crestfallen.

"I said get out." There was no mistaking her tone and he could not defy her as her Power needled into his mind causing him to walk out of the room in a daze, the door slammed behind him, sealing him out.

The room was eerily quiet.

Pearl walked soundlessly to the bed to lean over the slave, inspecting the open wounds at her throat, her wrist, her thighs, her lips had gone blue and her breath barely a whisper across her lips. The flimsy chiton was stained red, her brown hair matted with blood.

Pearl sniffed the girl, sweat and spice and blood wine, the scent of the Lords and above all Verain. But more intriguing was her blood, curious Pearl dripped a finger in a spot where it gathered in the hollow of her collarbone and licked it experimentally. She was delighted by the sweet potency of it. She had been told ichor ran in the blood of some of the island slaves.

The girl's eyes opened, accusatory.

"I could drain you dry." Pearl whispered. She looked into the slave's brown eyes and recognised her as the one she had Verain whip, remembered how her brown eyes had coveted Verain from a distance. "Would you like to greet your gods, slave?"

A gurgle passed her lips, her eyes staring past Pearl, gazing at her pet who was jewelled and staring with wide eyes at them both. Her pet had grown awfully skinny from lack of food but the resemblance was uncanny.

"Of course you must be related." Pearl mused. "Same inbred look to you all."

Pearl dipped her finger to taste the blood again, sucking on her fingertip as if it were a lollypop.

"I suppose I know why Lucerne has such an obsession for fucking his slaves." She said and slid her fingernail between the meaty lips of the slave's open wounds. Sin cried out from between clenched teeth, her eyes closed, tears rolling helplessly down her cheeks. She had suffered such torture before but the pain was never dull, never something she could be accustomed to.

"Your blood is…like nothing I've ever tasted."

Pearl cut her own finger on one of her sharp teeth and smeared her blood across the seams of the slave's open wounds and the slave sighed in almost pleasure, as the skin knit together and healed cleanly.

"Do all slaves taste like you I wonder?"

Sin moaned as Pearl fingered the meaty slit of the wound at her throat. The blood ran thick, dark and fast. It soaked the gauzy bed clothes until it too dripped with blood. Pearl could feel the beat of the slave's heart slowing almost to death and she took her time sealing the wounds one by one.

Sin did not know when the Maistresse had become naked nor how she had come to be in the Maistresse's bed but her senses returned to her enough to realise the Lady had made a dress of the bloody bed clothes, the fabric clung to her skin, transparent with life fluid.

The door opened and harsh torchlight filled her vision and she was blinded. Pearl turned, slow with her fill of blood, she found Lucerne, dishevelled and blood stained standing in the doorway. His eyes were black, pupils fully dilated, his teeth were clenched and sex was pregnant in the air between their stares.

Lucerne's eyes fell to the slave on the bed and his lips parted to reveal his sharp teeth.

Verain was silhouetted in the doorway, a heavy iron collar wrapped around his throat, his posture crooked, his face bruised and bleeding. Pearl had a tantalising glance of this before the door closed behind Lucerne.

"What have you done?" Pearl asked.

Lucerne strode toward her, placing a finger across her lips, silencing her questions and grasped the fringe of the fabric wrapped about her and raised it above her waist.

* * *

Lux sat in Elysion's Library, eyes moving fondly over the old tomes, he remembered being a young boy sitting at Lauren's feet, listening to the deep rumble of his voice as he read the old histories of the island. Lauren had been a good father and a fair leader, unlike his son…

Lucerne had brought back practises that Lauren had strived to eke out of Elysion life: the exploitation of humans, selective breeding and hunting humans as prey. Lauren had given the humans a home in lower Elysion, camps where families could be together.

Lux wished he had returned to the island to reminisce about the fond memories of the past. He had been torn from this place for far too long, he had forgotten how terrible but how lovely it could be. The fragrance of the night blooming jasmine flower drifted up through the window, such smells reminded him of his childhood, and of Linnea.

He toyed with the ruby that hung around his neck, a childhood gift bestowed on him by Lauren that he had always kept safe and hanging by his heart.

He looked around the familiar insides of the library, shaking his ruefully as it had been sorely neglected since Lauren's passing; he had no fear of interruption here.

He could not use technology to message anyone, Elysion didn't have coverage. So he sat with a black biro poised on a small sheaf of paper; when he had composed his letter it would have to be smuggled off the island somehow.

So absorbed in his thoughts he did not hear the sound of footsteps but something in the atmosphere changed altogether, he looked up to see Linnea's unmistakable silhouette as if his thoughts had summoned her to him. She hadn't noticed him.

He watched her place a pale hand on her head, her eyes close and his heart seized for an instant. She looked tired, her pale beauty worn by years alone with her brother ruling over her. "You've changed." He said.

She startled blushing prettily. He remembered her being a tenacious young girl with a promise of much sweetness, he feared that that much of it had been eroded here, but then she would have fared no better off the island, times were hard for the vampire nation.

"I didn't see-" Her words withered beneath his intense stare. "What are you doing?"

"Reading." He said motioning to some books at his elbow.

She looked at them, identifying the titles on the spines. "You've finally learnt Latin?"

He shook his head, no. "That's not something I was ever taught."

"Pity." She said. "For all those books here are written in the father tongue."

He forced a smile and spread his hands but made no explanation.

"We are not children any more Lux." Linnea said her voice was hard.

"I've noticed." He couldn't help the warmth in his voice, her eyes moving wantonly over her as it always had. Coveting the new curves beneath the silks she wore. With a cool eyebrow raised, Linnea gave him such a look that brought a smile to his lips. "Won't you come and sit with me?" He asked and pushed out a chair with his foot.

She shook her head, no. "Lucerne would not allow it."

"Lucerne isn't here now." He said unable to resist the opportunity.

"Lucerne is Maegester here." She snapped. "I do not want to be part of the games you two play."

"I'm not playing a game, my Lady." He said, his expression turning suddenly dark.

She continued to stand he continued to stare for endless moments until, in a throaty whisper, she spoke. "Don't look at me that way."

"What way?" He asked though knew then that she felt every morsel of yearning that he did, a yearning that they always shared since they were children running hand in hand on the sands of Elysion making promises in the moonlight.

"You should never have come here." She said softly.

"I was sent here." He revealed.

"By who? Your council?" She snorted. He shook his head vaguely in response. "You should leave and quickly. Before someone gets hurt."

"What makes you think someone will-"

"I may have never left this island but I am no fool. You being here has stirred Lucerne's paranoia and we will suffer for it." She collected herself, a shaky breath passed her lips and it was her turn to shake her head. "You should never have come."

He pursed his lips and stood slowly. She had betrayed too much and he wanted to tell her, to talk to her as if they were their old selves but much had changed and yet his feelings had endured. "Wherever I have gone." He said. "I've not forgotten you, Linnea."

Her lips parted harshly, ready to wield a cruel response but there was a thunder of footsteps and shouts echoing from the halls that called both their attentions. Linnea picked up her skirts and ran.

They found the physician, Alister up to the elbow in blood. He walked dazedly down the corridor toward her. "What's occurring?" Linnea asked.

"A Hound has gone wild and attacked the Magesters." Alister's voice was a dry rasp.

Lux was at Linnea's shoulder, they shared a quick glance before heading toward the hall where they found the Lords gathered, looking miserable and bloody. "Where is Lucerne?" She asked, looking from face to face.

No one answered her.

"What is going on?" She demanded.

"One of those fucking Hounds." Domitian said, his throat a ragged mesh of blood and torn skin which was slowly beginning to heal. "It attacked us." Linnea went to his side, laying a cool hand on his chin to study his face, to satisfy herself that he was okay.

"How did a mere Hound come to harm all of you?" Lux asked from the doorway, thoroughly unconvinced.

Some of the Lord's balked in shame, other mutter under their breath. "They collared him." Domitian said with some satisfaction. "That fucking beast."

"Where's Lucerne?" Linnea asked softly this time.

"He took the Hound." Domitian said his eyes clouded with regret for an instant before his eyes turned to icy silver hatred. "I hope he kills the snivelling mutt."

"Where's Verain, was he not attending you this night?"

Domitian looked at her, his expression twisted with hate, it was then Linnea realised the beast and mutt he had been talking about was Verain. Her hand flew to her mouth to stifle her gasp.

* * *

It was raining hard but the deluge did nothing to mask Sorken's cruel laughter and the meaty sound of his whip taking strips out of Verain's back.

With his knees sunk into the soil, his blood fed the soil, Verain took his punishment with cries restrained behind clenched teeth.

"It's…about….time...they…handed…you…over…to…me." Sorken grunted between strikes, thoroughly enjoying the task entreated to him by the Lord of Elysion. Lucerne had bidden him to search the House for Verain, they found him collapsed outside the Lady of Elysion's chambers.

Sorken had grasped him by his blood slicked hair and clamped his throat with a steel slave collar. Verain was helpless and moved as if in a daze, he did not resist when Sorken had kicked and pushed and dragged him down the sodden mud path to the Dens and stripped him of whatever rags he had left.

Voris stood to one side and could not intervene though his body trembled with desire to defend his grandson but he could not disobey the Maegester's will.

"You've only ever had a taste of this until now." Sorken worked with delirious strength, taking large chunks of skin and flesh from the young Hound's back.

Though Verain's mouth worked in soundless paroxysms, not a word passed his lips. His mind was far away from even the merest hint of pain, fixed on the slave girl who was bleeding…dying…dead on the Maistresses' bed. There was a faint flicker in his chest, like a second, waning heartbeat.

He gritted his teeth, Sorken's whip was increasing in force and frequency, and his uncle took every delight in his punishment.

"He's got to the bone." Someone commented.

"Enough." Voris shouted.

Sorken was berserk and did not hear his father speak, he could not hear anything but the rhythm of his own whip, and the tear of Verain's flesh.

Other Hounds were there to bear witness, taking their own enjoyment in the defiling of Verain the Fair, the most favoured of the House. Even Volker sat in the distance, beneath the awning of Sylvia's shrine, he was shaking his head ruefully and caught Verain's eye offering him no comfort before turning his head away.

Punishment was Sorken's domain.

"Enough." Voris' voice broken through Sorken's frenzy and he turned baleful stare to the old Hound.

"The Magester bid me punish him within an inch of his miserable life."

"What was his offence?" Voris asked. He being only one of the few who did not know of Verain's rampage, the other Hounds murmured to one another, sharing sly glances and toothy grins.

Sorken wound the whip around his fist and stalked around Verain's fallen body, the young Hound was half collapsed on a tree stump, the side of his head pressed to the wood so Soken could have the best angle at his back.

"Verain the Fair." Sorken spat, his voice pure hatred. "He went wild and got at the Lords of the House."

"What?" Voris was surprised. The Maegesters liked Verain and Verain liked the Maegesters, there had never been ill will between them and Voris could not imagine Verain having reason to attack. "Verain."

Rasping breaths crawled past Verain's lips, his consciousness waning as the loss of blood weakened him. He spent the last shred of energy on willing the girl to survive.

"He has finally gone mad." Sorken said with disgust. "No longer the Magester's favourite now."

"I think you have done enough." Voris said but Sorken kicked Verain in the ribs, a sickening crunch as he broke them. "The Maegester did not order his death."

Sorken glared at the old Hound, his father, but there was no love between them. Voris was bold with knowledge that he was still the only Hound in the Den that could beat Sorken and Sorken was scarred with the knowledge that Voris had always preferred Verain, the child of his beloved daughter, over Sorken.

"What difference do you think it would make?" Sorken snarled. "It would be kinder for me to kill him here and now than have him face whatever the Maegester has in store for him."

Voris stepped between them so Sorken could not land his blows at the boy who was fast slipping into unconsciousness. "If he has committed such a terrible deed then he will pay for it as the Maegester's see fit. No Hound balks from his punishment." He glared directly at Sorken. "If it is Sylvia's will then so be it."

Sorken grudgingly moved away from Verain.

Voris knelt beside his grandson; his hands trembled as he reached for the boy's torn flesh. "You stupid pup." Voris said affectionately. "What were you thinking?"

Verain's lips trembled in an attempt to form a word but he could not, because he did not know her name to shape it with his lips.

* * *

Updated 01/04/2012

Miss S


	14. Fourteen Update 01 04 2012

Fourteen

* * *

Sin was dreaming. The fringe of her dream were soft and smooth as velvet and the scent of fruit and night blooming flowers enveloped her, and she danced in the dreams of her youth, breaching celestial spheres to find the bright cheek of a god.

They greeted her with warm smiles, their eyes as radiant as the moon, but their smiles soon turned sharp, their teeth like vicious beasts of legend and they advanced on her, large ravenous shadows, their eyes a mercurial shade of evil.

She sat bolt upright with a shout.

"Peace." A man put a warm hand to her forehead and forced her to lay flat.

"Is this Elysium?" She asked.

He burst into peals of laughter. "Not at all, my dear."

Not the afterlife. She was so sure she was dying, she remembered the Maistress' cool fingers squeezing at her bite wounds, fingertips and nails probing her flesh, and she remembered the unbearable pain like knives running from her skin to her solar plexus. She remembered her vision growing dim, the image of Sorrow blurring to blackness.

"How am I still alive?" She asked in a barely audible voice.

"Maegester Lucerne brought you to me personally."

"Who are you?" Ignoring what he had said, not able to comprehend it. She found her limbs were stiff but usable, there was no sign of the wounds on her arms or legs though the phantom mouths of memory still embraced her and she prickled all over with pain.

"A healer." He said, his back turned to her. "Just a simple healer."

She looked about the room, able to make out his specimens in jars, a hand, a heart, a foetus. It was horrific, a charnel house more than a medic's chambers and her heart quickened in fear. "You saved me?" She asked.

"No." He said with a snort. "I wouldn't waste my medicinals on a slave, even if it can talk as eloquently as you."

She had forgotten her place and dropped her head. _Maegester Lucerne brought you to me personally._ She could remember his wife Pearl, her sister Sorrow, the blood, and the door opening, Lucerne silhouetted in the doorway…and Verain…

"My back hurts." She whispered.

"There are no wounds on your back." Alister mumbled. "I've checked you over for any possible lasting damage and I say there is none."

Sin frowned, thinking he'd had his hands on her, thinking of where he may have placed those hands. She was nude, but then a slave spent half their lives nude, nevertheless she felt exposed and uncertain. She checked over her limbs again, not able to believe her skin was smooth and unhurt. She marvelled at the godlike power of the Maegesters.

Another thought dawned on her then, Verain. She was suddenly filled with a trembling worry, flashes of him rescuing her made her collapse against the bed, the strange pull of magic between them was calling to her now and she was almost overwhelmed with the scent of his fur and she moaned with the sudden intense flash of pain, flesh stripped to the bone, broken ribs, bloodied mouth, broken leg…

He was in pain; she could, for an excruciating instant, feel all that he felt and she waded out of the sensation with a gasp to find herself whole and untouched.

The healer was interested then. "It is said that there is a great magic amongst your tribe." He eyed her clinically, as if she were no more than another specimen in a jar.

She had heard no such rumours; her tribe had always lived in fear of the House, they ambled from day to day praying only to live another. They feared the Hounds too and above all feared a life without either Hound or Maegester. Sin could imagine her big sister's cheeks flushed with anger, Ankti shaking her snake-like locks from side to side, disappointed but not surprised to see her in trouble.

"I know a thing or two about magic." The healer said. He sat by her bed, grasping her hair and stretching her head back so her throat was taught. "Did you know your blood has magical properties? There is much I could do with it…"

She bit her tongue.

Whatever had possessed him to take hold of her seemed to desert him and he released her, returning back to his stool, turning his back on her. "Sleep. He will come for you soon enough." He said without turning round.

She didn't sleep. She curled into a foetal ball and trembled, fearing what was to come.

* * *

"You cannot kill him." Linnea said softly by his ear.

The Lords and Ladies of Elysion had gathered in conference over the troubling issue of the wild Hound. The pale, slender figures filled the hall, their expressions grim and eyes heavy on Lucerne.

"He must die. Like any dog that turns on its master." Domitian snarled aloud cutting through the tense murmurs of the rest.

"You are right." Lucerne said with a weary sigh and turned toward his sister, their eyes meeting and something passed between them that was beyond the other Lamia. "I cannot kill him."

Domitian muttered beneath his breath.

Lux watched with interest but his expression remained cool, drinking everything in. He didn't understand why Lucerne would not have the Hound executed instantly, after all Verain was only a slave and his crime was of the most serious any slave could commit. His eyes turned to Linnea who kept close to her brother's side, whispering calmly in his ear, petitioning for Verain's life.

"Lucerne." Domitian's voice was calm but his whole being radiated fury, his eyes the canny silver of the moon. "You cannot deny he is dangerous."

"No." Lucerne agreed.

"Then he must be gotten rid of."

"Perhaps I can offer a solution?" Lux interjected.

"This is not your concern." Domitian glared at him tensely but Lux didn't wither beneath his stare.

"You do not wish to kill the Hound and he cannot remain here with you." Lux said reasonably, rising from his slouch to approach his adopted brother.

"What do you propose?" Linnea asked for Lucerne would not. She laid a placating hand on Lucerne's shoulder and implored Lux with her eyes to continue.

"I will take him when I leave." He said eyes aimed steadily on her face. Linnea looked to Lucerne, eyes pleading but Lucerne turned his silvery eyes to Lux, where there was a true burning hatred and suspicion. "I'll establish him on the mainland." Lux continued. "He doesn't have to die."

"Lucerne." Linnea gently took her brother's hand and whispered softly. "Let Lux take him away."

Domitian scoffed. Lucerne turned to the Lords who wanted retribution for what had befallen them and the Ladies who wanted guarantees that their safety would not be compromised. "In two months hence, the eve of the Hound's worship festival, Verain will be pit against the Hound's champion, Sorken. A fight to the death." Linnea's hand went to her mouth. "Should Verain win and only if he should win." He turned to his sister. "Lux can take him away from Elysion, never to return."

"Why not now?" Domitian pressed.

Lucerne glared at him and stood to his full height. "For every day that he has healed he will be lashed, and I would see his punishment be thorough before I release him to his gods."

Domitian smiled, seeming pleased and this went some way to placating the rest. Lux stood watching Lucerne carefully and was surprised to see genuine heartache on his brother's face.

* * *

The room was as dark as pitch.

It was somewhere between Alister humming off key and a vision of Verain passing into unconsciousness she too had succumbed to an exhausted sleep. Her mind was reaching out but could not find Verain, could not reach the verdant glade where they had often met. But then, they were just dreams.

Frustrated she woke to a dark room. Sin knew she was not alone; it was as if the air had abruptly disappeared, as if the darkness had come alive and began to caress her skin. Suddenly a hand closed around her throat and she held her breath.

"You've caused a lot of trouble, my little calf." The Maegester spoke.

A dribble of piss rolled down her inner thigh.

"And a lot of pleasure." He breathed in the scent of her hair still pungent with blood. His hands moved possessively over her stomach, her breasts, squeezing her arms. A shuddering breath passed her lips and she waited for the cold sharp invasion of his teeth.

"What am I to do with you?"

He spun her around so she now faced him, she could not feel his breath as he did not need to breathe; she could hear no sound from him except for the creaking of her own limbs as she trembled.

"Was it you that drove him mad, I wonder?" He mused aloud. "As you drove us mad."

Sin froze, he was talking about Verain, her heart began to thunder as if it knew new bounds when the Hound's name was mentioned. She knew the Maegester could hear her body react and his grip on her became cruel. "I want you bathed and ready for me."

He released her and she fell to the floor, he strode out of the room.

* * *

The rain had died down leaving only mires of mud between the sloping path of the Den and its courtyard. A sombre mood pervaded amongst the Hounds who went to their tasks with their heads down, talking in low murmurs.

The Maegester's horse trotted purposefully into the courtyard, the Hounds raised their heads to watch him dismount; his deerskin boots sunk into the mud, his eyes were bright and moved slowly over each of their faces. They dropped their heads in deference but bitterness rose, palpable in the air between the Hounds and the Lord of Elysion.

Lucerne knew Verain would be concealed in the temple of Syliva, the inadequate makeshift space with its crude altar stained with wax and decorated with paltry offerings of petals and fruit. He trudged toward it, the scent of blood and raw flesh filled his nostrils.

He stuck his head beneath the awning of the temple. "Is he healing?"

The old Hound, Voris was tending to his grandson, pressing a cool compress to the welts of Verain's back. Only a day ago they had been jagged slashes exposing deep tissue and the off-white of his bones. Voris had worked patiently and had prayed too. In the temple of Sylvia they had not been disturbed by anyone. "Yes, Maegester." Voris said without raising his eyes.

Verain was laying on his front, his body shuddering, even though he was healing well his body looked horrific, his skin puffed and bruised and a patchwork of lacerations and puckered scars. One of his eyes was cracked open, as bright as molten gold, catching Lucerne in his sights.

"Why?" Lucerne asked, his voice softer than he intended.

Verain's lips shivered, crawling back to reveal sharp teeth. "Is she alive?" His voice was a barely recognisable rasp and it took some moments for Lucerne to discern what he was saying. "Is she-?"

Lucerne's eyes turned to solid spheres of silver, his anger filled the intimate space of the temple and Voris was almost instantly beside him, laying a calming hand on his shoulder, distracting him from the encroaching hatred that could stir him to action. "I beg forgiveness on behalf of the pup, Maegester." Voris said. "He's delirious."

Though Lucerne thought he knew exactly what Verain was saying and would take delight in detailing his punishments.

He pushed the old Hound to one side and knelt beside Verain, the scent of his tender flesh and blood stirred Lucerne's appetite and his sharp teeth were out. He laid a gloved hand on the most tender of welts and Verain hissed in pain.

"She is mine." He whispered softly, so softly that only Verain could hear, his icy lips fluttering against the shell of his ear. "I will have her tonight and any other I choose. And after I've had her again and again and again I'll take her life and give her carcass to your brethren to use for their pleasure."

Verain could not muster the strength to move though his expression was grim and tears sprang to his eyes. Satisfied, Lucerne stood and glanced at Voris, relaying his instructions coldly. "He will be whipped, every second day, Sorken will tender him lashes from twilight until dark and you will remain with him in this temple to ensure his recovery afterward."

A sharp breath hissed between Voris' teeth but he did not expound on his disproval.

"And." Lucerne met his eye a cruel smile curved his mouth. "On Lupercalia he will fight for his life."

"Yes, Maegester." Voris said twisting his hands together. "How, Maegester?"

"On the sands. No quarter given, no mercy shown."

"And should he win, Maegester?" Voris pressed. Having fought many bouts himself he knew well there was always a reward for the victor. He still held hope there would be reward for his grandson also. "What will be his reward?"

Lucerne was surprised at the spark of hopefulness in Voris' eyes. The House would bet on Sorken to win as they always did, there was no real contest between the lithesome boy shivering on his sickbed and the statuesque Hound whose first love was to cause pain.

"Why, his life, Voris." Lucerne showed his sharp teeth in a Cheshire grin. "Whatever that may mean."

* * *

Dolly grumbled and moaned as she scrubbed at Sin's matted head. "Stay still." The woman hissed, but Sin was still, she sat frozen with anticipation and fear. Dolly was preparing her for the Maegester and the Maegester was going to kill her, she was sure of it, she was convinced that he had allowed her to heal expressly for that purpose.

"You've disappointed me." Dolly mumbled wringing Sin's long hair until the last drop of water rolled down the basin. "I've never known such a disobedient girl."

Though Sin had not disobeyed Dolly, she'd not done anything wrong until her mouth opened to ask an irresistible question. "What will they do with him?"

"With who?" Dolly asked impatiently wrapped Sin's hair in a towel.

"The Hound."

Dolly paused and glared at her. "Those stupid beasts, they should never have been in the House. They're unpredictable. Dangerous." Taking out a fine comb she began to yank at Sin's hair trying without any finesse to work the knots out. "He will be put to death, of course."

"Of course." Sin whispered and Dolly smacked her head with a brush.

"Keep your mouth shut. You forget too easily who you are."

She bit her tongue but it did nothing to quell the fury that was slowly consuming her. She wanted to see Verain, it was as if nothing else mattered, not Dolly, not the Maegester, no the Hound's Den which had always been told in whispers, the stuff of nightmares. Dolly worked furiously to adorn her and Sin allowed her to, thinking if only she could escape the House…

"Don't even think it." Dolly admonished as tears filled Sin's eyes. "Your makeup will run and we'll have to start all over again. You do not want to disappoint the Maegester now, do you?"

Dolly held up the hand mirror, Sin caught only the merest glimpse of herself before knocking it from her hand and it hit the floor, the glass shattering. With a grunt of anger, Dolly struck Sin hard on the back of the head and she fell from the stool, catching herself on hands and knees.

A large shard glinted by her fingers and she discreetly palmed it before Dolly bent down to retrieve her.

"Now look what you've done." Dolly mumbled and helped Sin to her feet.

"Gather your wits, girl." Dolly said and adjusted the fall of her black chiffon dress.

Sin followed her, eyes on the fringe of her grey skirts, and the stones felt icy beneath her feet. They only paused once to allow a girl to pass, Sin glanced at her from the corner of her eye, and familiar green eyes drinking in Sin's made up face.

"Come." Dolly prompted her to continue onward and she drew a shaky breath.

They stopped again at the Maegester's door, recognising the grim little Tiger Lily embossed on the front. Dolly knocked, the staccato sounds made Sin wince. The door opened of its own accord and Dolly stood to one side to allow her inside. "Maegester." Dolly greeted and with a curtsy she left the darkened doorway sealing Sin inside.

Lucerne was sitting on his throne-like chair, a glass of wine in one hand, his shirt opened to expose the pale flawless skin of his collarbone and chest. Sin fell into a kneeling position; the shard of glass was hot in her hand, her palm slick with nerves.

"We are alone." Lucerne said as if it would somehow reassure her but it was eerily quiet and all she could hear was the anxious ticking of her own heart.

"Come closer." He commanded.

She moved toward him slowly, the jewels in her hair shivering, her feet sliding slowly toward him. She allowed herself to look up enough to see his deerskin boots, she knelt before them, and all the while her expression was hidden behind her hair, her hand possessed with a fine trembling.

"It is forbidden for slaves to have names but I'm sure you know that." His tone was idle. "What is your name?"

Lucerne was not kind, he grasped her by the hair and wrenched her face upward so he could see her features, twisted with pain and the unmistakable glare of anger.

"Speak." He demanded.

"I hate you." She hissed, unable to conceal the venom.

He laughed, taken aback by her boldness and intrigued by her defiance. "With all that I have granted you why would you have cause to hate?"

She was unable to prevent her emotions sliding across her face.

She was possessed of a loathing that for an instant overrode her fear. She hated him, she hated his House, she hated the power he possessed over her, she hated her frailty and most of all she hated that he stood between her and the Hound of Jupiter who could call lightning bolts from the merest touch.

"Would that you had the depth to truly feel." Lucerne whispered staring into her curious brown eyes.

"We feel." She assured him hand tightening on the shard of glass.

"What do you feel for the Hound?" He asked and she saw a strange sort of anguish in the Maegester's face. "Verain."

Her whole attitude seemed to change at the sound of his name. She softened, the tug on her hair loosened and she said ever so softly. "I don't know." He snorted and released her and she half collapsed into his lap. "He saved me."

"He could not even save himself."

"Where is he?" She asked, her cheek pressed against the Maegester's thigh, he felt cool beneath the fabric and drew no comfort from his touch.

"What matter is that to you?" He laughed and brushed her off his lap, she resumed her kneeling position. "He could be in the courtyard or walking on Sylvia's face and it would be no closer for you."

She dropped her head, afraid to reveal anything more through her expression, her hair fell to conceal her face once again and the jewels in her hair clicked together. Her grip on the shard was so tight it sliced into her flesh and she could feel the slickness of her own blood running in her palm.

"Do you think yourself bound to him? Is it because he saved your life?" He pulled her hair again, slowly this time to gradually reveal her expression that had softened into something solemn and defeated. She stared into his hypnotic gaze, blue and silver swirling colours, as compelling as the storming sea.

"Speak truth." He said, his words pressed upon her mind and she was suddenly overcome with grief.

She found herself nodding, unable to wield her tongue to speak, the idea of losing Verain took the fight out of her and the glass slipped out of her wounded hand.

"My poor little calf." He said a stroked her hair. "In a little while I will take you to see him, how would that be?"

Her eyes became as large as saucers; he spoke words she daren't even dream. "Then you will see for yourself that the Maegester is not without mercy."

He took hold of her hand, having smelt the blood the instant it had begun to drip. He lifted it slowly to his mouth and lapped the life fluid from her hand, his tongue moving to the rhythm of her heart. Her body reacted treacherously and he in turn responded to the heat coursing through her.

He released her hand and luxuriated in the feel of her hot breath on his face, his fingers moved gently down the back of her neck. "Please, Maegester." She murmured.

"Tell me your name." He whispered before he kissed her.

His sharp teeth sliced her lip and tongue and he drank from her mouth, slowly, deliberately, taking time to enjoy the texture of her as well as the taste of her blood. She could not resist, the enmity had deserted her altogether and she gave in to her desires as he consumed her with painstaking gentleness.

* * *

Updated 01/04/2012

Miss S


	15. Fifteen Update 01 04 2012

Fifteen

* * *

It was only with the Maegester did the days drag unerringly slow and only the spark of possibility, the whisper of freedom that kept Sin's broken heart beating.

She was sat in the midst of the Maegester's large bed, with only her hair to veil her nakedness, she did not know how enticing she was to the Maegester, from the candle's glow against her golden skin, the rhythm of her pulse rising and falling as her thoughts shifted from panic to compliance and back again.

She watched the dark edges of the room, he moved unnaturally black against the black, his demon eyes piercing bright. "Do you fear me?" The Lord of Elysion asked.

She nodded but could not find her tongue to speak.

"Of course." He scoffed. The low rumble of his laughter was like a scrape of nails against her skin. "But even you would kill me if you had the chance."

A shuddering breath passed her lips.

"What if I gave you that chance?"

She raised her eyes to meet his and felt reality melt away to the cruel silver brilliance of his gaze.

He moved toward her and she fought not to flinch. The mattress sagged beneath his weight and she closed her eyes, afraid to see his expression, the commanding shape of his mouth beckoning her to offer herself again.

"Do it." He said and pressed the shard of glass into her hand, it was stained brown with her own dried blood, the edges bit into her skin. "Take it."

She swallowed as she grasped the shard and raised the sharp edge against his throat.

Their gazes locked together, his eyes grew impossibly large and she fought the sensation of falling into the deep blue mystery of his stare. "Do it." He urged.

Her lips trembled, and she wanted to cry, to think she could gain her freedom with a slice. She could carve it from his flesh, and set Verain free. She was scared of the relief that sung in her veins as she pressed the glass deep into his pale skin, so deep his blood poured over her hand and sprayed across her face.

He made a choking sound.

Her tongue moved to taste his blood on her lip and a strange thrill moved through her.

His eyes became silver and words formed in her mind as if they were shaped by his tongue. _I am immortal. _She instantly relinquished her grip on the glass and it was left protruding from his throat. He picked the shard out with gritted teeth as if it merely pinched. "You cannot kill me." He said aloud.

She watched, horrified as the skin knit together and healed cleanly.

"My turn." He said, smiling wickedly. He took the glass and advanced on her, she struggled backward against the tide of silk but it was of no use, he pressed the sharp tip of the glass between her throat and collarbone and blood welled in the hollow there.

"Tell me." He said. "To whom do you belong?"

She whimpered as pain spread through her. He licked the blood from her skin, his mouth was hot and whilst it hurt, there was the irresistible stirring of desire. She was light headed and completely at his mercy.

Lucerne bit his tongue and let his blood seal the wound at her throat. Shivers rolled through her and she sighed, closing her eyes for an instant and when she opened them the Maegester was no longer beside her.

He moved around the room, like a beast shuffling in the dark. "Do you see this tapestry?" He asked conversationally.

She could barely make the tapestry out but knew it was Anata elegantly presented on the ocean surf. The goddess' hair was wild about her deeply tanned skin, her eyes almost living as dark and mysterious as the deep. Eyes that were much like the Maegester's. But there was much about Anata that looked like her also.

"Do you slaves worship her?" He asked.

Sin nodded.

"She is the mother of this land." He moved toward her, she imagined the sound of scales upon stone and it made her shiver in fear. The Maegester was a beast, taunting and stalking his prey. "They say her blood is within your kind also." He said. "I have tasted your blood and it tasted like…"

She dropped her head unable to bear his expression.

"Rebellion."

He sat on the bed; his lovely features glowed in a spill of moonlight, his pale and deadly hand reached toward her. She watched it sway elegantly through the air before it lay cool and hard on her cheek. "You are the daughter of gods."

Sin had always thought the Maegesters were gods or god-kin, blessed with celestial powers that cast them high above a lowly human slave.

"You are my Anata in the flesh." She struggled to release herself from his touch but he took hold and his grip was like iron. "You are mine and mine alone."

But Sin knew that was not true. She would never truly belong to the Maegester, even if he had possession of her body, her soul would drift up toward Elysium, she would walk with Irkalla and leave Elysion and Lucerne far behind her one day and that would be true freedom.

The nights bled together, seamless and unending. In those hazy days together he had met her eyes and bent his ears towards her sighs of pleasure, taking great care to ensure she enjoyed each and every touch and responded to each and every kiss.

He made love to her as if she were his wife, beloved above all others. "Why me?" Sin asked on one night with sweat cooling on her skin.

He caught her eye and she realised how young he appeared, if it were not for his eyes. The Maegester reached out gently and touched her jaw. "Because…you are not meant to be mine."

She passed into an exhausted sleep.

Another night he reflected darkly. "The laws state that falling in love with a human is punishable by death." He murmured, lips skimming over her bare hip.

"Love?" the word tumbled carelessly from her lips.

"Yes, love." He said before sinking his sharp teeth into her skin.

On another night she was trapped with him, completely at his mercy but he could see her gaze drift, her mind wander. "When you close your eyes." He whispered; his voice gentle and hypnotic. "What do you see?"

She hesitated, not certain if she should speak and if she should whether she should speak truth, instead she turned her face away. He touched the lattice of scars on her back, his touch igniting the phantom thrill of the lash and useless tears wet her cheeks.

Once, when he was sleeping a rare deep sleep, she crawled out of the folds of silk and pulled herself across the floor towards the seams of light. She was delirious, half-starved and wanting to escape the Maegester's touch. Her fingers reached toward the brightness, inches from the door frame before an icy hand grasped her ankle.

"Where would you run?" The Maegester pulled her into his comfortless arms and carried her back to bed. "You will never leave my sight."

Tucked under his arm she closed her eyes and slipped into an exhausted sleep.

He fed from her vein but only enough to sustain himself. In those days he made her body sing, she teetered between a thin line of pleasure and pain.

"Could you love me?" He had asked her once. She turned her face away as she had before. "I could make you love me." He growled. They both knew he could not. If only she could be devoted to the Maegester, but her thoughts lay with Verain and as she drifted into sleep she sought him in the tangle of her mind.

He was not there.

* * *

In the cool dark insides of the Temple, outside of the silver spill of moonlight Verain sat on his knees, his eyes closed and lips moving in silent prayers. His back was rigid, stiff and still healing from the latest punishment Sorken had doled out.

The blood and flesh that was stripped from him weakened him, it weakened his dreams and each time he found himself projected into the verdant glade in the wilds of his mind, he was lost and panicked, the trees gnarled and threatening, the shadows ancient and beastly, bearing teeth and cruel silver eyes.

He woke sweating, feeling as if some integral part had been ripped from deep within him and so he knelt in the temple, when his health would allow and he would offer prayers to Sylvia.

He would fan the flame of hatred he bore for his uncle, to steel himself against the fear of battle. Sorken had never been bested and Verain was still so young. Even as he thought of Sorken the scent of his approach filled Verain's nostrils.

The large Hound leant obnoxiously on the threshold, glaring at his nephew who hadn't for an instant flinched at his approach. "Are you ready to die, boy?" Sorken's words lisped between his sharp teeth.

Verain's pose nor prayers never faltered, he continued to pray for the nameless slave girl forming the shape of her in his mind, her loveliness driving away the lingering phantom of pain and the fear of what he was to face. She took the form of Sylvia, the bright and benevolent mother of Hounds.

"You risked your life for a slave." Sorken sneered. "A slave marked for death. Have you gone mad?"

"You will have the fight you've always wanted." Verain replied softly.

"If I ever got my hands on her..." Sorken ran his tongue over his large teeth.

Verain turned around, lightning quick and surprising Sorken who could barely comprehend the blur coming toward him. Verain put a forearm across his throat, and made him choke, his eyes grew large. "You will never lay a hand on her." Verain hissed from between clenched teeth.

"You don't even know her name." Sorken managed despite the pressure Verain put on his throat. "Yes, even I know she has a name."

Verain released him slowly, the momentary vigour drained from him in an instant. With a bone weary sigh he turned back to the altar where he resumed his kneeling position and raised his hands up toward the moon.

"I remember her well." Sorken said, his voice shivered with barely restrained rage. "You both humiliated me in front of the Maegester. I owe you a debt of suffering."

Verain didn't turn to even glance at the other Hound, instead he said softly. "I suffer, uncle."

* * *

The Maegester was true to his word and after eight days of his personal attention Sin was released from the darkness of his personal chambers and handed to Maistresse Dolly. She was bathed and perfumed as she had been the first night she had been presented to the Maegester.

Sin was arraigned in an elaborate steel slave collar, a long chain was hooked from the collar to a leash handle. She was nude and commanded to walk only on hands and knees and knew Lucerne had bid her do this to feel the fullness of her position as his personal plaything. Just as she had seen Sorrow at the end of Lady Pearl's leash.

Dolly was silent as she stared down at Sin, inspecting Sin's hair that she had carefully pinned back from her face so she was unable to hide her expression behind it. She was utterly exposed and she fought to remain expressionless though she trembled all over with fear.

"It will do." Dolly said finally and took hold of the leash handle, gently leading Sin through the House. The eyes of the Lords and Ladies raked over her, their disapproval palpable for they knew how long Lucerne had locked himself away with her, paying her the attentions fitting for the Lady of Elysion.

Sin could smell the Maegester before she could see him and she could almost feel his presence before she was drawn to it. The tips of his boots came into her vision and she tried not to flinch when Dolly handed the leash to his hand.

"No." Lucerne said sharply, he knelt and pulled a pin from Sin's hair and it fell around her face, weighed down by the decorative beads Dolly had woven into the strands.

"I prefer you like this." He whispered hotly to her, cool fingertip pinching her bottom lip. "Like Anata herself."

Sin pursed her lips and tried to pull away; Anata would not be chained and treated like an animal.

He laughed and it echoed cruelly in her ears. "Have you ever seen such a calf?" He said to a companion.

There was a murmur of reply but nothing more. Lucerne himself seemed immune to his kin's disapproval and he ran strands of her hair between his fingers in an affectionate manner.

Cool silk brushed Sin's arm, alarmed she glanced up to see the Lady Linnea glaring down at her, the Maistresse looked fierce and lovely and Sin inched back moving closer toward the Maegester for fear of her.

"What are you doing?" Linnea hissed to her brother.

"How dare you question me." Lucerne roared.

Linnea bared her sharp teeth refusing to be cowed by his tone. "You are going mad, brother. You are behaving as poorly as your wife."

Lucerne's free hand shot out and grasped his sister by the throat; his eyes were bright-silver hatred. "Do not presume to know me. You will not question nor dictate the actions of the Lord of Elysion." He released her, she stepped back rubbing her throat casting a sympathetic glance at Sin.

"She is mine to do as I wish."

"You forget the law." She said her tone soft.

"That is the Council's law not the law of Elysion." He snapped. "And I am the law in Elysion." Lucerne stalked away, pulling Sin roughly behind him. Sin fought to keep up, her hands and knees grazing against stone, rubble, mud until she felt the softness of sand.

The journey exhausted her but they paid little mind to her feelings. The sun sunk low into the seas and darkness possessed the scene. The Maegester tugged her toward a circle of torches, she looked through the strands of her hair to see them burning, lending their soft orange glow to the sands. Beyond them couches were scattered, only a few seats were occupied as the Lords and Ladies were still arriving for the spectacle.

There was a scent in the air, it was a mix of fur, sweat and raw meat and beneath it a scent she knew well, blood. Lucerne knelt beside her, brushing hair from her face, and stroking her cheeks. "I always keep my promises." He whispered.

Even as he spoke, Sin felt the small spark in her chest, the familiar thrilling sensation of Verain drawing closer. She felt relief and lifted her eyes to seek him in the outer darkness, she saw a large silhouette take shape; moonlight spilled revealing Sorken who was sneering as he stepped onto the sand.

Lucerne took a fistful of her hair and forced her to look at the Lords and Ladies of Elysion.

"I always keep my promises." He declared to them. "Tonight I give you the anticipated match between our champion, Sorken and the criminal Verain."

As he spoke Sin's posture stiffened, Verain was on the sand, she knew it, but couldn't turn whilst Lucerne had a grip on her hair. "They will fight to the death." The crowd approved with a low murmur and a clink of wine glasses.

Sin was horrified. The Maegester had promised she could see him, but she hadn't fathomed it would be like this. She struggled beneath his grasp but as always it was of no use, she could not resist his iron strength.

"Should Verain win then he will gain freedom out of Elysion, never to return." Sin felt another moment of sweet relief. She thought Lucerne had it in mind to execute Verain but he had graciously granted him a chance at freedom…something she had only ever dreamt of.

"And for you Sorken." Lucerne kicked Sin forward and she caught herself on her hands, peering through the tresses of her beaded hair she found Sorken's delighted expression fill her eyes, he was already coveting her flesh.

She could not bring herself to look at Verain, though his eyes were boring into her, his gaze as heavy as lead. Verain slowly he turned his white hot hatred toward his uncle. Sorken grinned at him. "She's mine." He lifted his head and howled into the night sky.

"Bet wisely Lords and Ladies." Lucerne said mildly.

The Maegester yanked Sin toward an elaborate couch where he took his seat and she was sprawled at his feet. He pulled her close enough to stroke her hair, removing errant strands from her eyes so she was able to search the semi-darkness where she found Verain, a young god in the flesh.

She could not make out all of him, her eyes were not well and the torches were dull, throwing paltry light on his face whilst most of him lay in shadow. He looked unharmed, though there were dark shadows beneath his eyes and an ugly expression of loathing.

His eyes were intense and set upon the larger Hound whose cruel grin split his face, Sorken murmured taunting words for Verain alone to hear.

The change in her was noticeable, her body taut and her whole being turned toward him, hopelessly drawn to him. For an instant Lucerne's hand in her hair became vengeful, tugging on it as if to draw her eyes away from Verain.

Lucerne nodded toward Alister who stood between the Hounds holding a white handkerchief aloft, he rattled off something formal before dropping the white cloth and removing himself from the circle with haste. Before Verain could start the Change he glanced at Sin, their eyes met and tears welled instantly, blurring her vision.

The two Hounds leaped toward one another, their fierce claws angled at the vulnerable parts of the other. By the time the first nail found purchase in flesh they were already fully formed wolves. Verain was the more striking of the two, large and silver reflecting the light of the fire and moon to shine as bright as a jewel.

Sorken was dark, woven from shadow and more deadly than Sin had feared. She had never before seen Hound pit against Hound and was sickened by the sound of ripping flesh, the blood spraying carelessly across the sands as each wolf fought to gain advantage.

The violence was different from the Maegester whose bloodletting was more elegant and seductive.

Lucerne continued to stroke Sin's hair; he sought to distract Verain subtly by touching his woman possessively. The flesh he had luxuriated in for the last eight days became nothing more than a way to hurt the Hound who thought he could steal his property.

Humiliated, Sin closed her eyes and had to content herself with listening to the growl and jostle of the fight.

Sorken threw Verain to the ground. Sin could feel the vibrations, she opened her eyes and saw Verain close, she could reach out and touch…The Maegester yanked hard on her chain and she fell to the sand choking.

Sorken was gaining advantage, saliva slavering from her jaws onto Verain's face. He had the young Hound's legs pinned to the ground, turning more human now so he could reveal his unpleasant smile. Sin held her breath, though her pulse thundered in her ears, the moment became agonising.

She found herself grasping Lucerne's leg and looked up pleadingly but he paid her no attention

She forced herself to look back at the Hounds; it was the least she could do to face the inevitable with eyes forward, honouring Verain in what little way she could. She watched as Sorken plunged his sharp teeth into Verain's shoulder, seeking to cause pain but not kill. He was toying with the young Hound who was slowly turning back to his human form.

Verain's head turned toward her as Sorken sought to bite into his side, teeth scoring a rib.

She began to pray to all the gods she knew, praying and willing Verain to get up and go on, but he looked exhausted and disheartened. His eyes moving to the Meagester's glove hand planted on her head, kneading the strands of her hair.

She tried to communicate to him with her eyes, tried to give him some verve but his exhaustion seemed to leach his strength and their connection ebbed with each moment Sorken laid tooth or claw on him. She uselessly clutched fistfuls of sand wanting to break away from the Maegester's grasp but was unable to. "No." She cried out.

"First I'll fuck her, then I'll eat her." Sorken snarled in his ear, his breath hot and smelling of Verain's blood.

Verain gave a great cry that turned into a mournful howl; with strength taken from the deepest part of himself he threw Sorken off as if he were no more than a pup. He didn't wait for Sorken to recover, with his superior speed he was on top of the older Hound his teeth locking around Sorken's throat.

Panic filled Sorken's eyes, the first hint of fear, and the slither of realisation that perhaps Verain could win.

With a growl of gut fury, Verain tore a chunk of skin and sinew from Sorken's throat and blood gushed ruby red to the sand.

The wound was large and beyond Sorken's ability to heal, his body began to twitch and his eyes became fixed to the moon which hung like a pearl in the sky. Verain stepped back, fully human, slathered in blood and sand, his eyes on Sorken's body which still trembled.

With great effort Sin broke free of the Maegester's grasp, leaving him with strands of her hair in his hand.

The Lords and Ladies of Elysion were be-spelled by the great wealth of blood that flowed from Sorken, they were focused on the ebb of consciousness, the bounty of life and their champion dying before their very eyes.

Sin collided with Verain, her hand reached up to cup his blood soaked face, his forehead fell to touch hers, his arms wrapped around her waist, their breath mingled and they allowed the magic to rise between them. "It's over." She whispered tremulously, tears falling like jewels on her cheeks. "You're free."

His whole body trembled with adrenaline; the only thing anchoring him was her touch. He breathed in deep mouthfuls, trying to drink her warmth, her scent, her very presence. "Your name?" His voice was ragged and barely there.

She smiled, a slow heart breaking expression that he had never seen pass her lips before now. "My name is Sin."

She was suddenly ripped from his arm; the Maegester had grasped the handle of Sin's leash and yanked her back. "Is it done?" He asked Alister.

The healer knelt beside the body of the fallen Hound, his fingers pressed into the gory meat, trying to find a pulse, his other hand testing for any breath at his lips. "He's dead." Alister declared pulling himself away from Sorken with a look of disgust.

Lucerne turned to Lux, who seated on his own couch, with a silver cold glare. "Take him then."

Lux gave a small bow and then glanced at Linnea whose eyes darted between them; she bit her lips until they bled and with a sigh that made her shoulders sag she nodded, affirming Lucerne's orders.

Lucerne gave a parting glare to his sister before he dragged Sin away, she struggled to get on her hands and knees, her skin scoring the rough terrain, breaking and bleeding until she could match his pace.

Verain stood in the centre of the sand circle, watching as Sin was taken away, he fell to his knees and lifted his face to the sky where he released a dreadful keening howl that haunted the night.

* * *

Updated 01/04/2012

Miss S


	16. Sixteen Update 01 04 2012

Sixteen

* * *

A furious wind battered Elysion but this did not deter Pearl from venturing out of the house and down the sloping mountain to the ridge that overlooked the roiling surf of the ocean and the harbour where a boat was tossed on the turmoil of the sea.

Torches swung violently casting harsh light of the four figures below.

Pearl's attention was focused solely on the slouched figure of Verain, survived after his match with the Hound's champion.

She had not been permitted to attend the match and had paced the women's hall, awaiting the outcome of the fight and the verdict to be delivered by the Lords and Ladies. They had entered the house in a grim mood, from this alone she had guessed that Verain had won.

She was glad of it in one part and yet the dark part of her was disappointed, Verain deserved to be punished for choosing a human over the Lady of Elysion.

Though if it hadn't been for his madness, she would never have had a taste of his human and Lucerne wouldn't have visited her that night and she would not be able to tell him that he had planted his seed inside her. She found herself touching her stomach, thinking of her ripening womb.

It would be a few more weeks before Alister could confirm the pregnancy but Pearl could feel the spark of life inside her and couldn't wait to announce it to all of Elysion and above all her husband.

So Pearl watched the slender figure in the pale white gown, cutting a ghostly shape in the uncertain light, Linnea was the first to arrive to bid Verain farewell. Pearl wondered about the strange bond between the two.

"Maistresse." A steward appeared at her shoulder interrupting her thoughts.

"What?" She asked from between clenched teeth.

"Maegester Lucerne bids you return to the house."

"He can wait." She said petulantly.

"It was not a request, Maistresse."

Raising her chin at a haughty angle she strode back toward the house. Let him command and demand things of her, once she shared her news her place would be cemented upon Elysion and she would command and demand the respect of all.

* * *

The winds seemed for a moment to slow and Linnea's skirts billowed on the final gust like a silky banner of surrender. Her expression was calm, belying none of the sadness she felt, to think Verain's only crime was to love the wrong girl…

Her eyes caught Lux who stood solemnly on the dock waiting for Verain to speak his last words to his grandfather Voris.

Linnea saw the flicker of emotion in Lux's eyes, perhaps it was regret. She would never know now. Their eyes met and he was solemn, there was a twitch of his mouth that could have formed a smile. She turned her head away and approached Verain, putting a comforting hand on Voris' shoulder, she felt him stiffen beneath her grasp.

She did not like the way Lux's eyes followed her, the undercurrent of heat that warmed her cheeks and bid impure thoughts. "I have packed all that is needful." She spoke gently, "should you want for anything all you need do is send word."

"I'll take good care of him." Lux assured appearing at her shoulder.

"We are in your debt." Linnea said and gave a respectful bow.

Lux lifted the collar of his coat hiding the fullness of his smile. "I'll remember that." He murmured.

Verain took hold of Linnea's hand a placed a kiss on her knuckles. "Thank you, my lady." His voice was hoarse, still healing from his bout. "Without you I know that I would not be living."

"I am sorry I could not do more." She said.

The winds began to pick up and Lux motioned for them to depart. Linnea stroked Verain's cheek sympathetically and then stood back to watch them go.

Verain turned his gaze up toward the house, the silhouette of its spires piercing the sky, and upon the ridge he saw a figure. Linnea followed his line of vision and saw it too; they both knew it was Lucerne.

"Lux will take care of you." She said not sure whether she spoke to reassure him or herself.

Verain dropped his head, his whole being seemed to fold inward. "I am grateful, Maistresse." Though he didn't sound convinced himself. He turned slowly and walked an awkward gait slowly toward the boat. Linnea felt tears gather behind her eyes but she held her chin high, refusing to let them fall.

The harbour master was shouting orders, barely audible above the cruel gusts of wind.

Linnea sought out Voris' rough hand and grasped it hard. "He will be well looked after." Linnea said again.

"I will never see my grandson again." Voris said his voice gruff with emotion and tears glistened on his ruddy cheeks. "I will never forgive the Maegester."

With that he turned and left, striding into the green of the forest leaving her alone to watch the shipmates ready the boat to cast off into the uncertain waters. It was not a good time to set sail, the turbulence of the weather tempering the roil of the ocean but the alternative was execution.

She prayed to Anata that she would guide them safely through the storm and deliver them safely to the lands beyond.

Even as the ship, tossing and wavering departed, cutting a difficult path through the choppy waves, she saw Lux's pale face and felt the caress of his mind that sent warmth through her body. Her body tightened treacherously and she felt the spark of regret fan into a great flame of sorrow for that secret part of her that longed to see what was beyond the soil and sands of Elysion

She didn't know how long she had been standing; her clothes were soaked through, tears and rain the same glistened upon her face. With trembling hands she headed toward her mount who had, despite the weather, waited for her without protest.

She looked up to see Lucerne was no longer standing on the ridge.

She mounted her horse and guided it gently toward the house. His footing was uneven as the paths turned to mud. She felt numb, oblivious to the eyes that watched her from the forest, the whisper of Hounds patrolling the paths and slave Holds.

When she arrived at the house, her silk dripping over the cobble stone, she walked like a phantom through the halls where there was no one to be seen. Even the women's hall was empty. There were no fires in the hearths, no shuffling servants to come across her path.

Anger grew slow but steady and her aimless wandering became a purposeful stride. She knew where she was going, her feet making pronounced slaps against the stone floor. She marched to Lucerne's private chambers, his door embossed with petunias, how apt for it represented anger.

She raised her fist to pound on the door but paused mid motion to listen.

"Won't you tell me your secrets, little calf?" Lucerne murmured. There was no reply from whomever he had asked. "Tell me your name."

Again silence.

"I will keep you from your sleep, I will deny you sustenance, you will have no respite until you tell me."

Linnea pounded on the door, each strike like the sounding of a great drum.

"I do not wish to be disturbed." Lucerne growled from within.

"It's me." Her voice was thick with emotion.

The door wrenched open and Lucerne appeared damp and dishevelled, his eyes red rimmed bright discs of silver.

"Where were you?"

"I said I do not wish to be disturbed." He said, speaking through a haze of his own anger he was not cowed by Linnea's disposition.

"It's the last time you'll ever see him." She hissed.

"I don't care."

"He is your son, Lucerne." She said appalled.

"He is no son of mine." Lucerne shouted and slammed the door between them.

Lucerne turned his back on the door, his whole being trembled anew with fury and it was minutes before he found the girl was watching him as if she had been struck. Her dark eyes were wide, caught in a moment between sorrow and shock. Such eyes weighed heavy upon his soul and with a growl he strode out of the room, slamming the door behind him, sealing her inside.

Sin picked up the heavy chain that connected her collar to the foot of the Maegester's bed; she struggled toward the window for she knew through the pane she could see the ocean and strained to seek out Verain's boat. Their connection receded as he moved farther away and she could not see it through the storm.

Inconsolable she slipped to the floor, she put her head in her arms and her arms wrapped around her knees and she wept until she slept on the cold stone.

* * *

Linnea continued her angry pace throughout the house, like a vengeful spirit now, she cursed beneath her breath and knocked ornaments from their shelves and plinths not caring that her feet would grind the clay or glass.

"What on earth is going on?" Pearl stepped out of her room in time to see a vase crash to the floor without Linnea having touched it. "Have you gone mad?"

"Where is your husband?" Linnea hissed in return and then muttering. "How would you know such things? You are not a true wife to him."

"My husband is well satisfied." Pearl said in the most imperious tone she could summon.

Linnea's mouth turned vicious. "Can't even stand the sight of you that he has to go fuck his slaves."

Pearl's eyes turned silver but she composed herself, lifting her chin she walked away calmly, dragging her bone thin and weary slave along behind her. Though her pace appeared casually she moved with purpose, she came to her husband's personal chambers and tried the door, it wouldn't budge.

She forced the door open and stood frozen in the door way. Fury possessed her and the leash dropped from her hand.

Lucerne sat by the window, a goblet held elegantly in one hand and the other stroking the length of the slave's hair, the slave's head was in his lap at an awkward angle because of the iron collar about its throat; limbs sprawled haphazardly on the floor in front of him

He took a generous gulp of blood wine and turned his baleful glare toward his wife. "What do you want?"

"What are you doing?" She asked from between her teeth.

He looked slowly from Sin to Pearl and back again. "Whatever I please."

"You're drunk." She accused with a sneer.

"That is no business of yours."

Pearl turned her attention to Sin whose eyes had rolled up to look at her. "You."

Lucerne stood and Sin slithered to the ground in a heap, her eyes distant her mouth slack with sadness. "Get out." He growled.

"Is this the thing you would deny me for?" Pearl was fuming, her voice turning shrill, her features flushing bright red. "I want its head."

"Get out." He ground out between his teeth.

"I am your wife." She continued.

"You are my property." He roared and she balked.

As the two raged, Sin's eyes slowly turned toward Sorrow and there wasn't even the faint spark of recognition in Sorrow's large eyes. Her face had withered, her skin had turned waxen and she looked sick. Life stirred inside Sin.

"Why did you send Verain away?" Pearl asked. Lucerne glared at her without response. "Why haven't you killed it yet?"

He went for her in a lightening quick motion, he was simply there, one hand claiming Pearl's throat. "I am growing weary of everyone questioning me. She is mine to do with as I wish."

"She?" Pearl rasped around his grip. Lucerne glared, his fangs elongating elegantly to his bottom lip. There was madness in his eyes that were brilliantly silver.

"I want its head." Pearl demanded weakly.

He released her but without a moment's hesitation he grasped Sorrow by the hair, a much more pliant target to abuse. "No." Sin cried out. The tension had reached its peak within her, the dying sense of Verain and now the cruel way in which he held her sister seemed too much to bear. Sorrow, however, did not react to being yanked and choked, as if she were used to such things being the Maistress' pet.

"Maegester, please." Sin said. "Please. You have all that you wanted."

Ever so slowly he turned toward her, relinquishing his grasp on Sorrow who seemed to be seeing Sin for the first time. Her mouth dropping open, shock etched into her painfully gaunt features to see Sin's words having an effect on the Maegester.

Pearl noticed this too and without compunction grasped Sorrow by the hair and in a flash of red, tore open the girl's throat. The Maegester hissed the instant Sin screamed.

Even as she fell, a small smile turned Sorrow's lips at finding true freedom in death.

Lucerne struck Pearl so hard she landed on his bed, scrambling across the mattress to try and escape Lucerne's wrath. He dove on top of her in an instant, fingers hooked like claws ripping away layers of silk and forcing her thighs apart.

Sin was weeping, the chains rattling as she strained against them trying to reach her sister, heedless to what was going on between Maistress and Meagester.

"Don't" Pearl pleaded with a scream. "I'm with child."

Lucerne froze.

* * *

Update 01/04/2012

Miss S


	17. Seventeen Update 01 04 2012

Seventeen

* * *

_Everything will change_,Sin thought as she lay exhausted on the ground, tears having wrenched the last ounce of strength from her body. Her arm was still outstretched, reaching out for Sorrow's fallen limbs. Her sister's skin had turned the vague blue-grey shade of dead things.

Her lips moved in prayer, hoping even the whisper of her words would reach the afterlife where Sorrow would be welcomed by choirs of angels and greeted by the benevolent embrace of the gods.

"Forgive me." She whispered. Her sadness knew no depth, sorry that she could not save her sister and certain now that she could not save herself, all because of the stubborn desire to keep her name secret from the Maegester.

Once again she had cost a sister her life.

* * *

"Are you sure?" Threads of anxiety wove into Lucerne's softly spoken words.

Alister nodded. "Certain, Maegester."

Lucerne stood; a sudden movement that startled the healer. "It's too early to be certain." Lucerne began to pace, pale fingers placed on his mouth to consider the possibilities of his wife bearing a son.

Alister shrugged nonchalantly. "Pearl is young, not like…" He didn't say, _Beatrice_ aloud but the name hung like a phantom between the two.

It took a moment for Lucerne to find his train of thought. "She is to be confined to her room. I want you to monitor the progress of the pregnancy daily."

"Yes, Maegester."

"She will try and resist." Lucerne said. "But I will have no one disturb her."

"Understood, Maegester."

"Good. That will be all." Lucerne made a banishing gesture with one hand and Alister bowed and departed quietly.

Lucerne perched on a banquet stool, the room was empty; not even the whisper of slave footsteps could be heard. He felt numb and none of the jubilation of discovering he was to become a father. He had been there before with his first wife, unbidden thoughts of Beatrice with a swollen belly ran through his mind and a strange sensation prickled behind his eyes.

"Lucerne." Domitian's voice heralded his approach and Lucerne quickly wiped his face of the first sprinkle of tears.

"Is it true?" Domitian crude manors revealed his common roots, he held his ruby red bottle of blood brandy aloft and a half drunk smile split his handsome face. "Is the Lady Pearl carrying you heir?"

"It is too early for a celebration." Though the softness of Lucerne's reply could not dissolve Domitian's cheerfulness.

"You will not deny my congratulations." Domitian said as he clumsily poured two crystal glasses full, the liquid sloshing, spilling and staining Lucerne's table. "It seems Fortuna smiles on you."

"Let's hope so." He said with no real feeling and he gulped the brandy down in one go without savouring the taste; the burn of alcohol was short lived in his belly and he placed his glass down gently.

Domitian gulped his glass down too and threw it down with less care. "I'm glad to finally see the back of your brother; I saw the boat go at sundown. Good riddance."

"He is no brother of mine." Lucerne had never masked his hatred of Lux to anyone in Elsyion. He too shared Domitian's relief over Lux's departure; he only hoped that whatever had drawn his adopted brother back to Elysion had not worked out for him.

Lucerne was well aware that the Court had its eyes fixed to Elysion as if they had right to dictate to its people, encroaching their new laws on the ancient traditions of the island.

Domitian lost his smile as he saw Lucerne's slip into a dark mood. "Lighten up, Luc." He said trying to force his mirth upon his friend. "Perhaps we should call up some blood?"

"An excellent idea." Lucerne said and Domitian pulled the calling bells.

It would take some time for their meals to arrive, as the girls would need to be prepared and so the two sat in companionable silence before the timid knock on the door and two freshly prepared female slaves appeared wide eyed before them.

Lucerne shared a look with Domitian before taking time to study the girls, one a slim red head with eyes a bright shade of green, freckles dusted her plump pale cheeks and she was charming as she stood for them. Beside her was a round Asian girl with shrewd black eyes and a perfect heart shaped mouth. They were both so different but equally lovely.

He could feel the mismatched rhythm of their pulses as they throbbed in the air. The tide of their hearts, their fear, their desire…"Come." Lucerne beckoned them in.

The girls were nervous, it was plain to see from the slight tremble if their lips or limbs; neither had been summoned to serve the Maegesters directly before and their inexperience showed.

Domitian stood and moved in a graceful swagger toward the Asian girl, he towered over her slight frame and she had to bite her tongue as he bent down to take a sniff of the nape of her neck. "Fresh blood." He sighed happily.

The warmth that emanated from the human slaves was seductive, enough to break through even Lucerne's pensive mood. He beckoned the green eyed girl to approach and she hesitated, she had little grace in her movements, and even beneath the perfumes he could smell the crude labour she had undertaken: the tang of herbs from the spice garden and heat of the sun on her skin.

She was pleased she had been chosen; he could sense her delight and the keen edge of pride teetered on folly. She was captivated by his beauty and knew she would bend easily to his will, they all did…well most did. "Relax." He murmured and touched her face; she had the grace to flinch.

Instantly seeing his displeasure she leaned forward eagerly to be touched again. He was already irritated, this one didn't have the appeal of the Meridianus girl; this one lacked the magic, the allure of one whose blood was born in Elysion.

Thoughts of his Meridianus girl brought a sigh from his lips. It wasn't merely her mortality that held his attention, it was the dark part of her that had succumbed to him, not only because he could overpower her but because she desired him. Furthermore, he knew that unlike this green eyed girl, his little calf would never be his completely.

Her defiance amused him and baffled him. Even now, as she was chained to the wall, with no more than her sister's corpse for company she would remain rebellious. He had hoped it would soften her, make her more compliant the next time he visited upon her.

"Take off your dress." He instructed in a soft voice.

The girl blushed, cheeks red to match her hair.

She struggled to take off her dress that was tied around her neck, and when the dress was undone, falling away from her skin she tried in vain to disguise her nudity with her hands. She was really quite lovely, he mused. Her skin was pale and creamy-white with freckles dotting her collarbone and back. He ran a hand over her body; he could feel the sharpness of her bones as he ran his fingers over her hip.

He put his mouth to her temple and felt the beat of her heartbeat against his lips, the rise and fall of her breath caught between desire and fear. He glimpsed Domitian who had since bitten into the slave's wrist; a look of pain pinched the girl's features though her eyes were detached from the whole affair.

Lucerne leaned forward to bite into the girl's neck, he first brushed aside her hair to scrape the hard sharpness of his teeth against her skin. It felt…wrong. "Get out." He hissed.

"Maegester?" The girl looked disappointed. How dare she question me, his eyes became the impossible shade of silver.

"Get out." He roared.

The girl ran.

Domitian tore himself away from his girl and stared hazily over at Lucerne. The slave gave a graceful bow and left the room in an even, measured pace.

Lucerne was boiling mad. Before Domitian could gather his wits to say anything Lucerne strode out of the room. He moved quickly toward his chambers, ready to tear into the room and seek blood but he paused at the door, taking a moment to compose himself.

He stepped inside quietly to find the slave girl sprawled on the floor, still collared and shackled. For a moment he feared she was dead until he soon heard the slow rasp of breath rattling passed her lips. She was a frail thing, superior to him in no way that he could fathom and yet…he was seeing dimension to the mortal that he had not comprehended before Her hatred, her fierce determination and disobedience exposed her free will, a thing a slave had not the luxury of having and yet...

He felt tender toward her. Protective even. She invoked in him all the feelings he had felt when he had been a young Lamia, since his father had been alive, since Beatrice…and he was frightened of them and the way it drew him away from his usual appetites.

He approached her slowly, careful not to wake her and he undid the chains which allowed him to gather her to him like a child. She whimpered but didn't wake from her sleep, her exhaustion was too complete. He carried her to his bed, she looked small but incomparably lovely, reminding him a little of Beatrice.

He lay down beside her, stroking her clammy cheek. "There will be no others whilst you are mine." He whispered and laid a kiss on her temple.

Meanwhile she dreamed. She dreamt of darkness and desolation, the sound of a child weeping in the nothingness. She dreamt of crawling through the dark, as if she were trying to seek the child but the darkness was organic, oppressive, impossible to navigate through.

Lucerne watched as the girl's lips trembled and tears slid slowly down her cheeks.

* * *

Updated 01/04/2012

Miss S


	18. Eighteen Update 01 04 2012

Eighteen

* * *

The dawn had brought with it the vision of land and the shipmates manoeuvred the boat into the brightly lit harbour.

They had weathered the storm, for it was brief; as soon as they were a mile from the coast of Elysion it had topped altogether. They had sailed fast through the open seas, days bleeding together where Verain spent most of the nights and days leaning against the stern, looking back at Elysion. Always looking back.

The harbour men called to the shipmates in a language he didn't recognise. "What place is this?" He asked; his voice husky from lack of use.

"This is Pozzallo." The captain replied sparing only a moment to glance at him from behind his shoulder.

Lux stood beside Vearin, his grey eyes gleamed in the light. "As soon as we make land we'll be heading to the Castello Monforte."

"Is that your home?" Verain asked.

Lux laughed under his breath but shook his head, no. "I have no home."

Verain wanted to press him but his words struck a melancholy chord. Verain had no home now either. Memories lanced him, a smile curving Sin's lips, tears like diamond drops on her cheeks and her brown arms encircling him…it was so distant now.

Verain stepped onto the gang plank and skipped onto the harbour, for the first time in a long time he was on land and his foot tested the solid thing with wonder. The earth's pulse was different here, not the sure and steady beat of Elysion but something more frantic and disturbed.

His legs felt like jelly and he walked slowly, following Lux's confident stride that had already lead him half way across the harbour.

People lifted their heads to stare at the new arrivals; he ducked his head to avoid catching anyone's eye and focused his vision on Lux's heels. His melancholy was still great enough to override his curiosity of this new land. He stopped abruptly as Lux stopped and looked up to see a sleek mechanical serpent.

"It's a car." Lux said and motioned for him to move. "Come on, get in."

Verain sniffed the car experimentally, sour fumes filled his nostrils and he reeled back choking. He looked into the cavernous insides and leather, polish and perfume assaulted him next. He felt nauseas, so many different scents crowded upon him.

He climbed inside after Luc, the seats were comfortable and unlike anything he had experienced. The way the car rumbled beneath his thighs, moved efficiently and fast away from the harbour had him intrigued.

The scent of pine needles tickled his nose but it was an artificial smell, it did little to disguise the myriad smells underneath.

He marvelled that there were no horses nor carts nor litters. The roads were concrete and far smoother than the packed dirt paths of Elysion. The structures that he presumed were houses looked strange, densely packed harsh lined buildings where people were living on top of people. He wondered how the Meagesters achieved a separation from their slaves.

He was staring wide eyed out of the tinted window, taking in the terrifying and wondrous sights of the main land whilst Lux sat silently beside him, as still as a statue. Verain glanced at him, questions hot upon his lips, and knew enough to leave the vampire with his thoughts.

The car eventually came to a stop. The sudden abrupt end of the engine and flow of air disappointed Verain, he had wanted to put his head out of the window but thought it might be inappropriate and contented himself with witnessing the spectacle behind the window.

"Here we go." Lux said and gave a not so reassuring half smile.

The door opened for him and he saw the driver wearing a smart black suit and cap standing outside with his hand upon the door. He stepped out cautiously, the sensation of being driven and then standing as strange to him as coming off of the boat. He squinted against the bright sun light, it was warmer at the Castello Monforte than at the harbour and for this he was grateful.

He looked up at the place but couldn't fathom the detail against the blinding light, the lay out was palatial and full of reflective surface, so different from the Maegester's dark ornate house in Elysion.

There were fields, the scent of the forestland called to him; it was something familiar and a comfort in the vast journey between home and this strange place.

"Is the Lady within?" Lux spoke in low tones with a nondescript dark haired man.

Verain followed Lux as he led them to the large wooden doors, nymphs in repose carved elegantly into the wood and as they crossed the threshold, Verain was surprised to see only one person there to greet them.

"My Lady." Lux bowed before a dark haired woman.

Verain's eyes became impossibly wide. "Maistresse." He breathed and fell to his knees with his head to the ground in genuflect.

The Lady Beatrice stepped forward. Clothed in an elegant white satin gown that made her beauty all the more ethereal, her lips were painted red and eyes were dark and captivating. She smiled though the fullness of this did not meet her eyes. "I am glad you finally made it." She said warmly.

"The way was rough from the island." Lux's tone was clipped.

Beatrice turned her smile to him but her eyes were cold. "Anata still has her way with the land." She turned to Verain. "Stand, boy."

Verain stood as commanded and allowed her to regard him, hr eyes lingered across the width of his shoulders and the set of his jaw, the golden hue of his eyes that were marred with sadness as if a light had been extinguished there. "You have grown." She said. "Come both of you, my people will take you to where you can refresh yourself from your journey."

Lux gave a courtly bow as Beatrice walked away. Verain raised his eyes to watch the train of her gown whisper across the floor. When she had gone from view he frowned up at Lux. "You serve the Maistresse?"

Lux stare bore into Verain. "I do."

"Why? I don't understand."

"You're not meant to." Lux said and strode ahead leaving Verain perplexed in the doorway.

* * *

Lux was seated in his study by the time the sun had again took to rising over the horizon, spilling a warm orange glow over the room when Beatrice came in. He could smell the jasmine perfume she had formulated to match the scent that haunted Elysion's house.

"Why did you bring him here?" She asked softly, though he knew her tone well and could read the anger in her voice.

"To save his life." And because it had pleased Linnea to do so.

Beatrice ran a hand over his shoulders, it made him shiver with unease and he noticeably stiffened. "Lucerne has sent him to spy on you…on us."

Lux shook his head, no. "Lucerne has gone mad. I wouldn't credit him with such a thing." And not in the manner that events had taken shape.

Beatrice smiled, he hated that smile, it was the smile that disguised the dark thoughts ticking and turning in her head. She had been exiled from Elysion after being driven mad by Lucerne and his pursuit to make an heir though her. Though he had been tender…once…he had stroked the back of her neck and whispered softly in her ear.

She wrapped her arms around Lux and he succumbed to her, his head dropping to rest on her. He was a poor substitute for Lucerne, she thought. "I missed you."

She raised her face for a kiss but Beatrice's mind was lingering on thoughts of Lucerne caught between desire for him and the aching emptiness he left in her chest. He had not only denied her himself but Elysion as well. In her fervour she found herself sinking teeth into Lux's lip and with a growl he pushed her away. Silver light shone in her eyes as well as his, the threat of violence now perfumed the air.

A hiss slid its way past her lips and she had to take a moment to compose herself. "I want your full report on my desk by tomorrow night fall."

Lux remained expressionless. "As you will it, my Lady."

He turned to leave.

"Did you miss me at all?" She asked.

He stopped mid-step and glanced back at her. His mind filled with Linnea, the gentle scent of her still on his clothes and climbing up his nostrils. "Yes." He said, though neither was convinced by his reply.

Beatrice didn't have the fullness of emotion to regret that the affection that she shared with Lux was without depth.

After she had been exiled from Elysion, after the miscarriage of her last child, she was taken to her father's house in Rome to find herself in disgrace with her family. Unbeknownst to her, her father had relinquished his ties and had little choice but to ensconce herself in the Vampire Court to retain what little title she had remaining.

They had given her a home in exchange for information about the House of Elysion and during that time, her madness had formed itself into a smart plan of vengeance.

First she had used the sympathy of the Lords to gain leverage amongst them and made several advantageous alliances. She propelled her way into a position of power in spite of her father, in spite of her husband, in spite of the hateful judgement of the gods.

She did not sit in the ruling committee but she was now a Lady in her own right and had taken up residence in Castello Montforte where she carefully over time machinated the downfall of the Lord of Elysion.

It had been a coincidence that she had come across Lux, the exiled co-heir of the island. Even though he was not bound by blood to Lucerne, still she noted how much like her husband he was.

She had seduced him, and convinced him to initiate into her House, and she had liked his company, but more was how he often and in small ways reminded her of her husband.

Lux would never be hers; he could never love her any more than she could love him.

He stayed with her, owing fealty to her now and to her House which was newly built of all manner and rank of People. The House afforded all of its People to roam far and wide but they would always return when it was needful. Beatrice seemed a benevolent Lady.

But beneath the exterior of goodness, it was revenge that caused her to take Lux to her bed. Lux came to know this in time, for when she slept beside him her lips would flutter with _his_ name.

She would send him to the Court to petition a visit to the island of his birth, and when he had been granted access she had commissioned him to survey the state of Elysion, to identify the seams that were slowly coming undone so that one day she might exploit it.

She had laid a foundation of whispers in the ruling Lord's ears how Elysion made a mockery of their laws. All she had to do was gather evidence and prove her assertions.

Luc had gone, in part happy to return to the home of his heart and there he had not counted on the stirrings of emotion from his childhood and his tender feelings for Linnea.

He shook his head to clear his thoughts; he slowed his step and resolved himself to write his report.

He would detail the Lord of Elysion's erratic moods, his wife's poor reception and the dalliances he had with his slaves that surely bent the Court laws of propriety. He would report on trading of slaves, the division of slave camps and breeding pens. He would also describe the servitude of the Hounds, strong, fit, fighting creatures who were trained like soldiers.

The House indeed had fractures; there were Lords and Ladies who yearned for the peaceful rule of late Lord Lauren and there were others who indulged in Lucerne's. He would mention the co-heir, Linnea's, unease under her brother's auspices, though he loathed to mention her at all. He would also have to write of how he had procured Verain as an ally, without betraying the truth of what unfolded not a few days previous.

Lux went to Verain's suite, he found the dark silhouette of the young Hound standing at the window, loneliness radiated from him in waves. "How are you doing?" Lux asked.

"I want to go back." He replied his voice soft, he was filled with turbulent emotions.

"You know you can never go back."

Verain turned bright eyes on him. "I have to." He said in earnest.

Lux shook his head sympathetically. "Forget Elysion."

"I can't." He whispered.

Lux knew, Elysion was in his blood, no one could simply just leave Elysion, it called to them from a distance as if the goddess Anata raised her siren's call bidding them to return home. There was nothing in this world he knew that could compare to Elysion: the magic and the majesty, where one could cavort with gods and their kin.

Verain's expression was one of exquisite torture, and his mind was filled with brief memories of Sin. He knew the Lords and Ladies would destroy her, but for now she still lived, he knew by the dim flicker in her chest telling him that she was still alive.

"You can stay here and be part of this House. It is a modest House but the Lady never asks more than you can afford."

"I have nothing."

"You have yourself."

Only half, Sin was his other half. "Was it like this for you?" _When you left Elysion_ went unspoken.

Lux had been exiled by Lucerne almost as soon as Lauren had died, he had been barely seventeen years old and was torn from all that he had known. "It was hard at first but you'll find the world has far more to offer than Elysion can." He lied.

Verain shook his head indeterminably.

"Sleep tonight, Verain and tomorrow I will have Francesca come fetch you for a tour of our grounds."

Verain shrugged and turned to the landscape and continued to stare listlessly out of the window.

Lux sighed and left, heading to his room to get a start on his report.

* * *

That night when Verain's head met the cotton pillow he succumbed to dreams that were vivid, filled with crimson, bones and broken flesh. Beatrice stood over him, having entered in silence and careful not to wake him.

She studied his face, how handsome he had become, features vague in their likeness of Lucerne but nevertheless the resemblance was there.

Her mind was overcome with memories: images of Verain as she had first seen him, as a boy, perhaps eight or nine and his eyes opened wide as saucers as they looked upon his father's wife for the first time.

She was tall and slender with all the delicacy of the Lamia and good breeding, her skin was as pale, and her eyes were dark framed by large lashes and her lips were luscious and naturally red.

Her pale elegant hands were placed on the swell of her pregnant belly as if protecting the child inside, it was her first pregnancy. Her eyes had fixed upon the young Hound and there was an instant where her lip had curled in disgust.

Lucerne saw how distastefully she cast her gaze upon the boy and with a sudden motion of his hand, his knuckles landed hard across her cheek, bruising the lily-pale skin.

"I would ask you to have a care with your expressions, woman." Lucerne hissed. "This is Verain, he will be taken into this House to serve the Lords and Ladies."

"A-as you l-like, Maegester." Beatrice stammered and hid her expression as she bowed her head.

She had developed a stammer while on Elysion, a habit that had taken years to break as had her instinct to flinch when a man rose his hand or stood breathing down her neck.

Lucerne had worked hard to crush her spirit, through beatings and cruel words, she had come to fear that a single breath could rouse his temper and she had been helpless to his will.

In those days she had been addicted to opium potions that had put her in trance like states which helped eased the indignities she suffered at the hands of her husband. The Lords and Ladies' bright gazes moved over her with something like sympathy but they were powerless to stop Lucerne.

And whilst she had lost child after child Verain had endured. Whilst the gods robbed her of new life, they blessed the half breed with health and favour, her only comfort being that he would never be heir of Elysion.

Beatrice reached out and touched a lock of Verain's hair; it was like silk between her fingertips. He whimpered in his sleep, his expression worried with bad dreams and a cold, ugly smile turned her lips.

Now Lucerne's only living child was in her House and she counted it a victory.

* * *

Updated 01/04/2012

Miss S


	19. Nineteen Update 01 04 2012

Nineteen

* * *

The Anean Preces was one of the most looked forward to celebrations in the Elysion calendar. In honour of their patron goddess they decorated the shore with peacock feathers and jasmine flowers and lay gifts of blood and jewels with their prayers.

The sands were bright with colours, the feathers and flowers laid just out of reach of the midday surf.

The House had arrived, a lovely procession of ethereal beauty, clothed in white chitons and chiffon gowns, their arms heavy with offerings, their lips eager with prayers.

Lucerne stood overseeing the Lords and Ladies with a cool expression, his wife stood beside him, absolutely stunning in her ivory gown, her golden hair raised from her face in an elegant quaff. A smug and satisfied smile curved her rouged lips and a pale hand pressed to her stomach that had not yet begun to curve with her pregnancy.

The Lords and Ladies smiled emptily at her, their eyes bright with exasperation but they dared not voice their dislike of her in front of Lucerne.

Lucerne bore the day with his cool mask in place; no one saw how his teeth gritted together, how his eyes would slip to slyly glimpse his wife. No matter how hard he had tried he could not bring himself to love Pearl, he simply didn't like her.

She was young and tiresome, always demanding and giving nothing in return. He had not shared an intimate moment with Pearl since she had revealed her pregnancy, so busy with her tenuous victory she barely had a moment to question him or to wonder where he spent his time or with who he spent his time with.

"This is dull. Why do you do all of this?" Pearl asked motioning toward the harbour adorned with more feathers and flowers.

"To honour Anata." He said through his teeth.

Pearl rolled her eyes. _Who worships gods anymore?_ She thought with a frown. But her idle wanderings were only to disguise the deep loneliness she had found in Elysion. If Anata truly had a hand in this place, Pearl hadn't felt her presence nor heard the whisper of her voice.

She watched the House flounce around, cradling their bland bouquets of flowers and the poor peacocks who were robbed of their magnificent feathers. _What would a god want with the crap anyway?_ She wasn't convinced by the whole thing.

"I wouldn't expect you to understand." Lucerne said carelessly.

She glared at him. She hated him with an ease that, in the quiet moments, shocked her. She knew he thought her shallow and simple, she knew he disliked her but she was sure it could not compete with her dislike of him and his House. It was what made it so easy for her to lie and command those closest to him to lie.

She noticed the resident healer hadn't put in an appearance. It had been easy to seduce him, not with her body but with the promise of blood. Things he craved for his experiments in darker magics. _"Just a few pints of blood from the slave, you know the one? Such blood has potential to breach the gap between mortal and the divine." _Not that she had truly understood all of what he had said but he had spoken with fervour and a maniacal gleam in his eye.

She had asked him of this Anata and he had waved his hand carelessly in the air. _"A worthless dragon child who whored herself to the vampire nation to beg clemency for her dying race."_

So she stood at her husband's side, a smile turned her lips for the sake of the masquerade but her insides churned with her machinations.

Linnea approached, she was resplendent in a gown of peacock blue that made the colour of her eyes alive with the beauty of the ocean. "Are you not going to make an offering, brother?" She asked and acknowledged Pearl with a nod of her head.

"I think there's been offerings enough for the both of us." Pearl said and deliberately patted her belly.

Linnea's eyes were cool as they moved over Pearl's hand.

Lucerne beckoned an attendant to step forward and took from him armfuls of flowers and feathers. Lucerne strode ahead of the Lords and Ladies and stepped onto the harbour where a makeshift altar had been constructed, white flowers were woven in complex arrangements, complimented by the peacock feathers, candles had been lit and sweet bees wax and candle smoke perfumed the air.

He remembered coming here with his father and grandfather and he remembered their earnest expressions as they prayed.

He laid his offerings on the altar, carelessly crushing the carefully arranged offerings before it. He prayed for a strong heir, it was an solemn prayer and he felt the ocean breeze ruffle his hair and for a moment he heard the whisper of the goddess on the wind.

From his pocket he took out a crystal vial, he had taken the blood from the Meridianus girl, and he poured the contents into the ocean. He could feel the flutter inside his chest like the wings of a great bird unfolding, readying to take flight.

When he walked back toward his wife, he couldn't bear to look at her instead he beckoned Domitian to come to him. "The Lady looks fatigued. Take her back to the House and make sure she is taken safely to her room."

"My Lord." Domitian acknowledged and glided toward Pearl.

Pearl's expression was wroth for an instant but she quickly masked her anger and smiled up at Domitian as he took her elbow and lead her toward the carriage and away from the procession that would continue into the evening.

"Take that look off your face." Linnea hissed discreetly into his ear.

He turned to look at the ocean, his eyes moving over the rolling surf and over the procession, kneeling Lords and Ladies with their own earnest prayers. Some time later he turned to his sister. "What did you pray for?" He watched a blush colour her high cheekbones and her eyes gleamed with a film of tears. "That is between me and the goddess." She said.

"See to it that everything is in order." He said and began to withdraw.

"Lucerne." She said and reached to stop him.

He gave her a frightening glare and she snatched back her hand. She watched him stride purposefully toward the tethered horses.

It was the duty of the Lord of Elysion to preside over the Anean Preces. She had watched Pearl being guided away earlier, perhaps begging leave for morning sickness or some other such thing. They would all think Lucerne a devoted husband tending to his wife.

* * *

When Lucerne entered his room he found the girl sitting on the slim sill, she stared out of the window, her forehead rested on the pane, her breath misted against the glass. The rhythm of her heart beat in his ears, like the wings of the bird that had vibrated in his chest as he offered her blood to Anata.

She didn't notice him enter. The candles he had lit that morning were sill bright, spicing the air as the candles had in the harbour altar.

He reached into his pocket and took out a necklace, a cascade of white gold and sapphires, far more elaborate than the marriage jewels he had given Pearl. His Anata in the flesh needed an offering too.

"For you." He said and she startled. She turned her head as fast the iron choker would allow, her eyes were large and her stare vacant, looking past him rather than at him. She looked haunted and hungry and so terribly sad. Her whole being spoke of longing beyond his comprehension and it provoked his jealousy.

He was infuriated, clasping the jewels in a fist before he threw them to the floor.

He approached her with vampiric speed and drew the curtains shut, she flinched and fell from her perch to the floor, barely able to catch herself on her arms. He took a handful of her hair and dragged her face up to meet his and their lips touched but neither made a move to turn the intimate touch a kiss.

The anger deserted him in an instant and he was overwhelmed with tenderness. "Tell me your name." He whispered against her mouth.

She remained silent and passive, though her eyes were shining. Defiant.

"You told _him_, didn't you?" He said, the anger transformed his voice into a snarl and his grasp on her hair became more painful. "Tell me."

She clamped her lips together; she would not think of Verain nor profane his memory with wasted words. The Maegester wanted to provoke her but she would remain strong, she would keep her secrets. No matter his cruel touch.

"I could kill you." He hissed, the words lisped from between his sharp fangs which were bright as his silver eyes.

"Do it." She said, her voice had a strength he had not thought was left in her.

"I wouldn't give you the satisfaction." He said and released her. She collapsed in a heap, shivering with adrenaline and fear.

She watched him go toward the silken cord, she heard the chiming of bells, he often pulled on the cord when he wished to be attended on. It wasn't long before there was a knock on the door, the candlelight extinguished in a single instant and Lucerne bid them enter.

The door opened slowly, a triangle of light from the doorway revealed a girl, her hair as bright as a ruby gem, her eyes a vivid green and Sin recognised her as the girl who had pinned her down in the slave dormitory, pressing the tip of a knife to her throat.

The door closed with a resounding thud and they were together in darkness. The green-eyed girl was disoriented by the lack of light; the tempo of her heart was maddening, even Sin could sense her abject fear. The girl did not know Sin was there.

"Come here." Lucerne commanded softly.

Sin heard the girl's slow measured approach, a uneven shuffle that marked her as new to the service of the Maegester. Sin could only make out the vague shapes of slave and Maegester.

"Tell me." The Maegester spoke, commanding Sin's attention, and she did not know whether he addressed her or the other girl. "Tell me you belong to me."

"I am yours, Maegester." The girl's voice was breathy, without any vestige of the malice she had shown Sin.

"Tell me." The Maegester said as if coaxing a child or wild animal.

Sin saw the Maegester reach for the girl, his voice was still lisping between his sharp teeth. The girl leaned into him and the Maegester's eyes were jewel-like and locked on Sin's face. He grasped the girl callously, fingertips crooking into her tender flesh and he pushed her neck roughly to one side.

"Don't" Sin cried out, she couldn't bear to hear the wet sound of him lapping blood from her skin, the evil sound of flesh tearing. She was still raw from the death of her sister and he knew it.

The candles burst back into life, casting orange light over the whole room. The girl gasped when she saw Sin staring up at them from the floor, her neck adorned with the collar. The Maegester's hand closed around the girl's throat, fingernails digging lightly into the flesh, her green eyes became terribly wide.

"I will barter for her life." Lucerne said. His attention was for Sin and Sin alone.

She glared up at him, her hands balled into fists. The green-eyed girl was shocked at Sin's clear defiance, the words that rolled from the Maegester's mouth, not commanding as he would any other slave. His grip tightened and another gasp escaped her lips and tears rolled from her eyes as she realised how close she was coming to her own death.

The green-eyed girl could not beg, she didn't have the wits to command her tongue but her eyes spoke volumes to Sin who could not resist the pleading in her eyes. Sin raised up enough to nod, which was made harder still by the unforgiving collar.

Lucerne released the girl who slid to the floor, trembling and tearful.

"What guarantee do I have that you will not harm her?" Sin's voice was wracked with emotion but there was a core of steel that did not faze the Maegester.

"You have my word."

He had kept his word before. He had allowed her to see Verain and that had been the last time she would ever see of him. Sin lowered her head, trying to find the courage inside herself and taking a deep breath she raised her head.

He looked upon her at that moment and it looked as if she was possessed by the spirit of a queen, he watched with anticipation as her mouth formed the syllable of her name. "Sin."

"And there it is." He whispered.

"Let her go." Sin said; her voice hoarse. She couldn't bear to have the girl witness what was to come, whatever it might have been.

Lucerne's eyes seemed to glow brighter with triumph and they never left Sin's face. The door opened of its own accord letting in a draft that brought goose bumps to her flesh. "Get out." He instructed the girl who had now become an afterthought. The girl gathered herself quickly, still sobbing she ran for the door which sealed behind her with a slam.

"Sin." He said as if tasting her name on his tongue.

She lowered her eyes, unable to match his mercurial gaze. He laughed victoriously and it was a horrid sound. "Come to me, Sin." With no reason to disobey she did as he asked and approached him where he was perched on the bed. He took hold of her and forced her to stand between his legs which clasped on either side of her thighs. "Do you know what I prayed for?"

She did not respond, her eyelids drooped and mouth turned into a frown.

He raised a hand and the necklace he had offered as a gift floated into his palm, she shivered at the icy rush of air that heralded his magic. He unfastened the collar from her throat and discarded it on the floor where it fell with a clank. For an instant she felt weightless, her bones no longer crushed by the weight of the iron monstrosity but he quickly replaced the collar with the necklace and it was as uncomfortable as the collar had been.

Even as he did this she felt his icy breath on her throat and it made her shiver anew. "I will make you mine, Sin." He murmured his voice vibrated through her body.

His fingers lingered on her jaw; his eyes swirled hypnotically and bore into her until she could not separate reality with the oceans that lay in his gaze.

He withdrew from her and she felt the loss of his presence almost instantly. He left her in his room and closed the door behind him with a resounding slam.

* * *

Alone in the Maegester's room, the drapes had been drawn and the candles had diminished to orange embers; the disclosure of her name had surely sealed Sin's doom.

The Meagester hadn't returned since he had adorned her with the sapphire necklace and so she slipped to the cool floor, exhausted and melancholy she curled into a foetal ball; closed her eyes and fell into a fragile sleep.

Sin was roused by the rolling sound of the ocean; she opened her eyes to a white intrusive light and the taste of salt on her lips. She sat up; her skin was moist and rough with sand, she rubbed the coarse grains over her arms and marvelled at the sensation.

She turned, having to squint to take in her surroundings. There were ribbons of fine, white sand on either side of her and a glittering blue ocean stretching to eternity before her. She glanced behind her to see a dark figure sitting on a rock, they were bent double and resting elbows against their knees and a thick black hood draped low over their face so one could not tell if it were a man or a woman.

Sin could feel eyes moving over her but she felt none of the panic she might have felt if she thought this was reality, she knew this could be nothing more than a dream. She wiggled her toes into the sand and gasped as the icy surf rolled over her feet and soaked her to the ankle.

With the delight of a child she ran at the waves, and savoured the sensation of the cool waters, the heat of the sun and the pliant sand beneath her feet. A large wave broke over her head and plastered hair to her face, the taste of salt filled her mouth and she couldn't help swallowing some of the briny water. When she tired of play she returned to the shore though stared at the vast stretch of blue and wondered. "I have tasted its breath since birth but never have I touched the sea until now."

"It is in your blood." The dark figure's voice was female and one of dry bones and age. It wasn't a pleasant sound.

"My blood?" Sin glanced over her shoulder. "What do you know of my blood?"

She sensed a smile from beneath the dark drape of hood. "Plenty."

"Is this a pleasant dream that leads me to my death?" Sin asked with a perverse smile.

"What makes you think it is your time, child?"

Sin shrugged in response and turned to face the cloaked woman, the sun gleamed so bright behind her Sin raised a hand to shield the glare as she spoke. "What use has Elysion for me now?"

"Plenty. Plenty." The woman said and beckoned her approach, though the dark sleeve disguised her skin.

Sin drew toward her cautiously. "Who are you, Abba?"

The woman laughed.

"Has no one said that you have been marked by gods?" Sin remembered in a world that seemed far away someone saying such a thing to her. "Can you not see that I have marked you?"

Sin reach up to remove the woman's hood, the instant her fingertips brushed the fabric she was pulled into reality, the familiar and discomfiting darkness and coldness and the sensation of someone watching her from the shadows.

"Your bath." The green eyed girl spoke when she saw Sin's eyes flutter open, the bathing basin had been pulled into the centre of the room. The girl cradled a large jug in her arms, the contents was steaming and scented. "I won't bite." The girl said but the smile died on her lips an instant before it appeared. "Come, take your dress off."

Sin gingerly climbed to her feet, stretching her limbs, the cold had set into her bones and she hugged herself as if it would ward off the chill memory of seawater on her skin. She half-heartedly reached for the knot at the back of her neck. "It's fastened too tight."

"Let me help." The girl's deft fingers unknotted the dress and it feel away from Sin's body to reveal cuts, bruises, bite marks, and trails of fingernails scoring her flesh. The girl inhaled a sharp breath between her teeth. "Gods."

"Help me." Sin said and the girl offered her arm, easing Sin into the tub of steaming water. It was a shock from ice to fire, it almost hurt but she submerged herself to remove the vestige of the dream and the woman's dry rasping voice from echoing in her ears.

The green eyed girl soaped a rag and gently bathed her, paying close and careful attention to the cuts and welts. She took a scented liquid and began to lather Sin's long dark hair, she still had jewels tangled in the strands and the girl tugged at them painfully. "Can they be removed?" Sin asked.

"They're too tangled." She replied.

"Then cut them."

"The Maegester-" The girl gasped at the thought. "He would not like that." There was a long pause before she spoke again. "Thank you."

"For what?" Sin asked wryly.

"For saving me."

"There are worse things than death." Sin replied softly touching the jewels at her throat. She could never put into words the loss she felt, the empty part inside her that was icier than the darkest part of the sea. To have held Verain in her arms for a mere instant before being torn from him. The Maegester's cruel mouth whispering in her ear…

"Come." The green-eyed girl interrupted. "Before your skin prunes."

Sin was towelled dry, the cool air brought goose bumps on her skin and she began to tremble uncontrollably. Nausea rose in a powerful wave and she doubled over and vomited. The green-eyed girl didn't look surprised, instead she used the edge of the towel to clean Sin's mouth. "How long have you been sick?"

"Not long." Sin confessed.

"How do you hide it?"

"Water and cloth is brought for me after he…" Sin shivered.

"Does he keep you here always?"

She nodded. "Since I was taken from the dormitory."

"I never knew." The girls said by way of apology. "I thought you pampered, saved from the hard graft reserved for the rest of us. Truth be told I was jealous."

Sin laughed under her breath. What she was made to do for the Maegester was surely hard work: hard on both her body and soul. She could fathom no girl to envy the favour the Maegester had shown her.

The green-eyed girl put a new silk dress on Sin and gently attached the shackle to her ankle, the chain leading to Lucerne's bed post – Sin had hardly been away it had been removed.

"I will bring you some medicinals for the sickness." The girl said and walked away. Sin opened her mouth to protest, she thought any gambit of help from the girl could only serve to anger the Maegster. "The Maegester bid me care for you." She explained.

Tears welled in Sin's eyes and the girl used the edge of the towel to dry her eyes. "You saved my life, Sin, I can do no less." She whispered and closed the door gently behind her.

* * *

The grand hall of Elysion was bright and alive with celebration. Samnite and Sumerian slave dancers enticed the Lords who drank deep of their cups whilst the Ladies gathered around the musicians, engaged in conversation sprinkle d with melodious laughter.

Lucerne sat on a throne-like seat decorated with elegant peacock feathers, his face a cool mask as he presided over the revel. They would go one for days in the wake of the Preces, offering celebration to the goddess, thankful for all she had bestowed on them.

Domitian made his way to Lucerne's side and placed an arm on the back of the throne. "You were missed." He murmured. His breath was spicy with alcohol, his words lisped together ever so slightly.

"I had other matters to attend to." Lucerne said imperiously.

"Yes, your wife told me about them." Domitian said and took a deep draught of his wine.

Lucerne's jaw clenched but his voice remained calm. "What has my wife been telling you?"

"That slave." Domitian said. "Verain's little whore-" Lucerne fixed an angry stare on his friend and his words froze on his tongue. Domitian's expression turned to one of comical terror but the wine made him brave. "I have never objected to fucking them, Luc but bedding a dog's seconds?"

Lucerne's temper was white-hot and his voice dangerously soft. "He never touched her."

"He risked his life for it." Domitian shrugged sloshing wine over his shirt. "Why else would he defy you if he weren't having his way with it?"

Lucerne thought of the first time he had Sin, her body soft, hot and wet; she hadn't cringed as he breached her, nor had she bled. He had been so enrapt in the pleasure he hadn't paused to think on it. It made him boil with a fury so deadly he could not stay in his seat. He stood and marched out of the hall.

"Luc." Domitian called after him and the Lords' and Ladies turned their heads to stare and Domitian hastily followed the blazing trail of anger the Lord of Elysion had left in his wake.

Lucerne strode into his chambers, throwing open the doors and paused in the doorway, his eyes were vitriolic silver and his sharp teeth were large in his mouth.

Sin was crouched by the door, she leaned over her shackled ankle; her blood pooled on the floor by her foot. Tears of frustration blurred her vision.

"You little whore." Lucerne hissed through his teeth, though the words could barely reflect the resentment coursing like fire through his veins. The words barely reached Sin's ears before he came at her with that awful vampiric speed and threw her carelessly onto the bed. Her leg strained against the shackle and she bit back a scream.

"Lucerne." Domitian called from the doorway where he leant heavily on the threshold.

"Did you fuck him?" Lucerne, grasped her shoulders and shook her hard, glaring into her stunned expression. "Did you?"

Sin's stare alternated between Lucerne and Domitian.

"Lucerne." Domitian hissed. "This is not dignified."

"Do not speak to me of what is dignified." Lucerne growled and turned back to Sin. "Did you fuck that worthless dog?"

She drew her mouth in a firm line and refused to answer and this seemed to affirm something for him. With an icy expression he broke her shackle easily with one hand and with fingers tangled in her hair he dragged her from the bed. Sin clawed at him, trying to release the painful grasp but it was like a vice and she was powerless against him.

Domitian stood to one side, allowing Lucerne to drag her out of the room. In the candle lit hall Lucerne picked Sin up and threw her over his shoulder, her arms dangled useless down his back. She watched his feet, trying to ignore the nausea that rose in her throat.

She raised her head enough to see Domitian's features twisted into a cruel smile and knew he was the one who had moved the Maegester to such anger. She had never touched Verain in the way the Maegester had accused her of, though she could not deny that she had longed to do such a thing. To know Verain as the Maegester knew her…

Lucerne barked commands, they were suddenly in the cool air out of outside and then a horse was brought, the stench of it filled her senses. She was thrown roughly over the saddle, she scrabbled at the horse's flank but Lucerne had a grip on the knot of her dress and kept her steady on the horse as they sprinted down the slope of the house.

"Stop struggling." Lucerne hissed and gave her hair an absent tug.

He stopped the horse abruptly, it reared onto its hind legs and Sin fell from its back to the ground.

Lucerne dismounted expertly, his face a blank mask though his eyes were a dangerous swirling silver. He grasped Sin's arm and dragged her toward the arches of the Hound's Den, her limbs raking in the wet earth. With bleary eyes she could make out the mark of the crescent moon and knew it was Sylvia's mark.

Voris was sitting outside of the temple chewing meditatively on a leaf when he saw the Maegester stride into the Den dragging a bedraggled slave behind him. "Maegester, what is this?" He took uncertain steps forward to meet Lucerne in the yard.

Lucerne threw the slave into Voris' arms. "Take your filthy whore." Sin cried out as Voris caught her.

"I don't-"

"Don't you recognise her?" Lucerne snarled, his sharp teeth gleamed dangerously. "Your grandson's filthy fucking whore."

Voris looked down at Sin, searching her expression and recognising nothing in her face. She was just a girl, a poor beleaguered slave. He took hold of her chin and even she could feel the shiver of shock than ran through the old Hound.

Lucerne sprung forward and grasped her by the hair and pulled her toward him, he landed a hard slap across her face, blood blossoming from her nostrils. "Please, Maegester." Voris grasped Lucerne's shoulder and pulled him back. Lucerne didn't relinquish his punishing grasp and his hand was raised halfway to strike her again. "She's with child."

Lucerne's whole being froze as he processed Voris' words. "What devilry is this?" He whispered.

Sin too was frozen, her whole being numb with shock. She went limp in the Maegester's grip and he allowed her to gently descend to the ground. Lucerne turned his eyes toward Voris then to Sin and again to the old Hound. His lips shivered as if he were about to speak but he thought better of it and quickly retreated back to his jittery horse, he mounted it in one smooth motion and rode away into the encroaching darkness.

Voris bent to pick Sin up and she struggled to evade his reaching hands. He was a Hound afterall and he could eat her whole. The old Hound bent over her and said in a soft clear voice. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, Maegester." She whispered tremulously though her voice was distant, distracted.

"I am not your Maegester, girl. Come to the temple." He said and pulled her toward the confines of the temple which were warm from the many candles that littered the altar of Sylvia. The wax was sweet, the candle smoke spicy and the underlying scent she knew was Verain's brought tears to her eyes.

Despite the shock she was in awe, she could feel Sylvia's essence and it lingered in the temple and the phantom of prayers cloyed within the temple walls, Verain's prayers also…

"It is true, Maeg-" She began.

"Voris." He supplied, his gruff voice ever-so-gentle.

"Voris." She said softly, testing the sound of his name.

He knelt in front of her, his golden eyes kind, and she could tell that he was once very handsome, worse still she could see the echo of Verain in his features and a wave of melancholy hit her so strong she collapsed to her knees. "Is it true?" She asked. "Am I?"

Voris nodded. "Yes."

"How do you know this?" Though the Hounds were kin to strange magics they were the enemy of the slaves and despite his obvious kinship to Verain she could not bring herself to unquestionably trust his word.

"I can smell it."

She put her face in her hands and smothered the tears that leaked from her eyes. She was carrying the Meagester's child. Verain's brother. For the first time she was glad that Verain was not on Elysion to witness her shame.

* * *

Updated 01/04/2012

Miss S


	20. Twenty Update 01 04 2012

Twenty

* * *

Verain was dreaming. He knew it was a dream because of the sensation of _her_ in the circle of his arms, the scent of jasmine oil emanating from her hair, the softness of her skin, her soft feminine body pressed enticingly against his, her breasts beating against his chest.

Verain came awake with a start, his body seized by heat and then icy-white fear. His eyes were wide, glowing luminous gold and he could not drift back to sleep, he could not grasp the fringe of her presence, his dreams were comfortless, his body burning with useless desire and he decided could not convalesce a moment longer.

He swung his legs over the mattress and placed his head in his hands, his head began to pound from the ever-present electric buzz of the modern world. It was loud and stinking, an assault to his developed senses, he thought he'd never get used to it.

He stood, his limbs felt weak. How long had it been since he had run under the moon, allowing his fur to bask in Sylvia's radiance…he couldn't bear to think of it.

He went to the window and parted the blinds, he saw a figure standing below on the vast expanse of lawn, petite and dark haired and almost like…almost like…

There was a curt knock on the door. "Verain?" He recognised Lux's voice.

"Coming." He said, voice hoarse from lack of use.

He opened the door a slim crack to reveal Lux's earnest expression. "You okay?"

Verain nodded.

"Get dressed." Lux said. "We've been summoned."

Verain moved mechanically, getting a cold shower to help remove the cobwebs of sleepiness, he dressed quickly in a white cotton shirt and denim jeans; he took a moment to stare at himself in the floor length mirror and was surprised at how ordinary he looked. There was nothing of Elysion left on him.

"Verain." Lux called from the doorway.

He fell into step beside Lux, and kept his eyes low on the ground. He had no choice but to trust the vampire for he was completely at the mercy of his new hosts and he could barely comprehend what that could mean. "Have you been resting well?" Lux asked half-heartedly.

"I've been having bad dreams." He confessed.

"Me too." Lux admitted with a half-smile.

He was led to a conference room, Verain noted the dahlia embossed on the door, reminiscent of the signifying flowers carved upon the doors in the great house of Elysion. The room was large, a great table dominated the floor and empty seats surrounded it save for on figure, a woman sitting regally at the head of the, treating her chair like a throne.

"You." It slipped out of his mouth before he could think and to correct himself he fell to one knee observing the protocols of Elysion. "My Lady."

"So you do remember me." She said. Her face was flawless, pale and smooth, home to a perfect bow of rose red lips, a straight petite nose and slanted eyes that glittered at that moment blue-grey and deceptively calm. He knew the face well, used to stare at it when he was a pup but he had often seen the features taut with grief and anxiety.

She turned her attention to Lux who watched with a guarded expression. "Why did you bring him here?" Beatrice's voice was cold, as cold as Lucerne had ever mustered and it made Verain shiver with the memory of Lucerne's cruelty.

"I salvage him from a unique situation." Lux said and as an afterthought. "My Lady." Said somewhat sardonically which raised Verain suspicions over the nature of their relationship.

"Do you know who he is?" She asked Lux.

"I do."

"Why are you here?" Beatrice asked directly of Verain.

Verain was overwhelmed with the events of the last few days and he couldn't organise his thoughts to explain it all. With a tremulous sigh he raised his eyes to the woman. "I have been exiled."

Beatrice smiled, calculating and cold. "As have we." She clapped her hands together. "How lovely, we are a family of exiles the three of us."

Silence filled the uncomfortable space between them all and Verain was filled with the same sensation as being in Elysion where the atmosphere was taught and madness ripe in the air. He looked from Lux to the Lady, neither offering any reprieve.

"It seems the gods have presented us with an opportunity." Beatrice cut through the silence. "You are under my protection for as long as you wish to remain here, should you stray further I cannot guarantee your safety."

"I am free to choose?" He asked incredulously.

She nodded, that awful smile stretching across her mouth. "We may call upon you from time to time to return the favour of our hospitality." His jaw became tense, but he nodded to indicate his agreement of all the malevolent things she might ask him to do.

"Good. Now we will have a dinner tonight and you can greet our House and its allies."

"It would be an honour." Verain said.

Beatrice could hear the insincerity in his tone and her smile froze, those blue-grey eyes turned an angry shade of silver. "Now would you be so good as to leave me with Lux, we have much to discuss and I think such things would bore you."

Verain was glad of it and left with a perfunctory bow.

He was not familiar with the corridors and it took time to find his designated room, he was struck by the similarities between the villa had the house in Elysion: marble plinths bearing the busts of ancestor, the frescoes and tapestries eerily reminiscent of those decorating the great halls.

He came upon a marble statue of a young woman cradling a water jug. The image struck him so completely that he had to draw closer to inspect it. The slender limbs were posed in such a familiar way, long wavy hair cascaded passed the curve of her breasts, and concealed the face.

"It's beautiful isn't it?" He startled and turned to find a petite dark haired woman staring at the statue fondly. "It's one of my favourites. I always wonder what she really looks like...what she's thinking..."

_Freedom_. The word formed in his mind but he didn't speak aloud.

The girl offered a small golden brown hand. "I'm Francesca Caravella." He took her hand, her fingers warm in his, her grip became firm and he shook his hand firmly. "You must be VerainTeixeira, Lady Beatrice's honoured guest."

He hesitated. Verain Teixeira. Just an ordinary someone. A false name of no consequence. "Y-yes." He stammered.

"Nice to meet you." She said and her eyes drifted back to the statute.

He studied her from the corner of his eye. Raven black hair, golden brown skin, a compact but fit little body with narrow waist and an ample swell of breasts.

"What do you think?" She asked. "You've been checking me out from the corner of your eye. From the blush on your cheeks I take it you approve."

"Apologies."

She laughed. "Don't worry about it."

"I never meant to offend you."

"I'm not offended." She assured him with a winsome smile. He stared at the strange girl who smiled so easily. It wasn't something that was familiar to him, never having the ease to express his true emotions. "Do you serve this House?" He asked.

"Serve?" She said the word a quirk of the mouth and then offered a shrugged. "The Lady Beatrice is my papa's friend. She asked me to show you around. We should go now, there's a lot to see." Though her tone was gentle he was afraid.

His whole being jarred at the thought of leaving the house and stepping into the crude new world. He feared his memories of Elysion would slowly ebb away, and that thoughts of Sin would too.

Francesca seemed to sense his reticence and stepped into his room, she took a seat on the nearby chair. The room was sparsely furnished; she noted that he had not brought with him nor accumulated anything personal. A look of sympathy dashed across her features and he hissed beneath his breath. "Don't. Don't look at me as if I were something to be pitied."

"I'm sorry." She said and spread her hands in front of her. "I didn't mean to offend."

"What do you know of me?" He asked his voice soft and sad.

"Nothing. Nothing at all. Except…you come from very far away." She said and then offered her hand to him. "Let me show you around."

He looked at her for some time before taking hold of her hand, her touch was warm and pleasant and surprising to him. "Come." She said and tugged him toward the door. "Let's get out of here."

He followed wordlessly.

* * *

"I had not thought you would want to keep him." Lux admitted as he watched Beatrice pace back and forth in front of him. "I don't know what game you play by asking Francesca Caravella of all people to be his guide. You know how her father is."

"I don't know what you mean." Mock innocence tainted her voice.

He shook his head, a bitter smile played on his lips. He had learnt long ago to avoid asking a scheming woman too many questions, one might just get the honest answers.

The Caravella family had lived here for generations, the premier wolf pack who guarded their daughters like treasures. Lux had half a fear Beatrice intent was to have Verain thwarted by the Italian wolves but then again Verain could prove a valuable bargaining chip in her bid to ruin Lucerne.

"I've read your report." She said.

"Was it adequate?" Though he wasn't truly interested in her response.

"Quite informative really." She said and smiled, her red red lips gleamed succulently. "I see sister Linnea could be an ally in the days to come."

His head snapped toward her. "I don't want Linnea involved."

Beatrice's lips pursed. She disliked his tone and had always been suspicious of his fondness for Linnea, the softness that appeared around his eyes as he spoke her name. "Well she is a key figure, co-heir to Elysion. If we want to reclaim the island from that bastard then we will need her on our side."

"What makes you think she will betray her brother?" He said.

Beatrice looked at him blithely.

Lux shook his head. "I think you risk too much on a past long gone."

"Enough plotting." She said with a bright smile and a careless sweep of the hand. "Let us to dinner."

"Did you invite St James?"

Beatrice's bright expression faltered for a mere instant. "Of course."

She glided toward him and he stiffened as her hands glided over shoulders. "You're so uptight." She murmured in his ear.

He rotated his shoulders and neck. "I am anxious about this whole thing." He confessed.

"You don't think we can overcome Lucerne?"

"Not that." He said. "Even if Lucerne is deposed who will guide the people, reform the laws?"

"Why, you and I." Beatrice said with a laugh as if the answer were obvious. "We can return to Elysion as King and Queen."

The thought disturbed him deeply and he had to supress a shudder. He would never marry Beatrice, by law she was still married to Lucerne, it was only Lucerne's lie that she could not conceive that convinced the Council to allow Lucerne to put her aside, they could not sanction a true divorce and a marriage between them would not be true.

"But there is time to work out those details." She said and drew him into an irresistible kiss.

* * *

The immaculately kept garden led to the wild and tangle of forestland. Its green breath greeted Verain and he was overwhelmed with a familiar feeling, a comforting feeling. Francesca was a few yards in front; she turned to glance at him, gesturing for him to follow.

When her back was turned he pulled off the tennis shoes that thwarted his contact with the earth and gripped his toes on the springy grass, feeling the moisture of the earth and its pulse. He breathed the scent of nature in deeply, a precious thing in this world, he feared.

"Verain." Francesca called out to him, an easy smile on her lips. "Run with me?"

_Run._ His body sung with approval but he was cautious. He had smelt the fur and wildness on her as soon as the scents of the house receded. He did not know if it were proper for him to see her in that way. He had never come upon a female wolf before and the thought stirred him more than he'd like to admit.

Before he could find his tongue to respond Francesca pulled the cotton shirt from her torso exposing her breasts and flat belly. "Come on." She said and in a mere blink she burst into her wolf form.

A lovely strawberry blond creature, small and agile.

He didn't have time to think and he pulled his own shirt off and discarded it carelessly, not caring who may have watched or what might have waited for him. The need to run, the sense of play in the air was too much to bear and all the tension of the past few weeks seemed to melt away as he turned into a Hound.

The sky transformed into delicate hues of blue and purple, the magical charge in the air was clearer than it was in his human form. He could almost liken the lip of the forest to places in Elysion, the pull of green and earth pushed out the encroachment of iron and smoke of the city beyond.

His limbs felt charged, fully alive and he covered ground quickly, running to catch up with Francesca. He playfully nipped at her haunches and she growled playfully in response.

When she turned to glimpse him she slowed and paused, staring at the imposing figure he had become. As a Hound he was far larger than she, his fur appeared silver in the ailing light, he appeared like an ancient being, a wolf lounging at the feet of a god.

She had never before seen a Hound.

He pushed his muzzle into her side and urged her to continue through the forest, he moved on pure instinct, he climbed, jumped and burrowed through interesting scents and trails. He wanted to explore everything, and it was a joy to have the petite wolf by his side to observe him.

They must have been out for hours, for when they emerged, thoroughly coated in dirt and laughing with delight, the moon was high in the sky and the hum of artificial torches flooded the lawn in white light. He was already in his human form when he came out of the lip of the forest; Francesca was behind him, her breath heaved from the Change and their exertions.

He found the smell of her intoxicating and quickly went to retrieve his jeans to hastily conceal his erection.

She stood, easy with her nudity that same wide open grin on her face. "That was incredible." She panted. "I've never seen another like you."

There probably wasn't, he thought. His father was Lamia and his mother a Hound, there hadn't been such a matching known to him in all the histories of Elysion. They had not known if he were going to hunger for blood or be called by the moon. It was the moon that had beckoned him, Sylvia's silver radiance showering upon him from the hour of his birth.

Though his mother died in labour, he had had Voris to guide him through the formative years, where he learned to hunt and be wise to the tide of the goddess' whims. He had been thirteen when he had first Changed, the agony was near-incomparable. He had never been accepted by the other Hounds for his father was not of their blood.

They began to walk in silence back toward the house, the joyous moment fleeting and memories of his homeland returning in a wave of grief.

"I've offended you." She said glumly.

He wanted to console her but instead he gave a heavy sigh. "I think it's best if we return to the House."

They walked side by side; he glanced at her briefly to see her clothes on inside out, her hair dishevelled and skin marked with dirt. She was indeed lovely but this only seemed to deepen his melancholy. His soul belonged to Sin and she would never run with him, he would never see her body by moonlight.

"You're sad." Francesca noted. "I think you've been through a lot for someone so young."

"I am nineteen winters." He said defensively, he did not think himself young.

She smiled. "Older than me but still young."

He shrugged not knowing what to say, hoping she would abide his silence.

"Are there others like you where you come from?" She asked.

He nodded. "Somewhat like me."

"Not even my father is as large as you." She said. "His wolf I mean."

"I am kin to the gods."

She laughed.

He glanced at her from the corner of her eye, at once curious and slighted. "Gods don't exist." She said as if it were a well-known fact.

"Don't they?" He asked completely baffled. This land, godless? He couldn't fathom a life without the gods. Without Sylvia's eye watching over him, watching over his grandfather, Lady Linnea, Sin…

"Of course they don't."

"Perhaps not here." He muttered under his breath. "What do you believe if not in the gods?"

She shrugged. "I don't know…myself I guess, and my family."

"You must have a great family indeed."

She nodded though her lips pursed. He wouldn't press her now, though he felt there was a story to tell there. They came into the harsh circle of white light, well onto the path toward the villa, parallel to the driveway. The growl of a car engine cut through the air, an alien sound to Verain who grasped Francesca's arm and stopped abruptly.

"It's okay." She said and patted his hand. He was once again surprised by her gentle, warm touch. "It's just a car."

She stood on tip toes and squinted to see if she could recognise it. "Shit." She said and released him, now jogging in the direction of the purring metallic beast. Verain followed her at a more cautious pace. The closer they drew the more vulnerable he felt, and quickly pulled his grass stained t-shirt over his head as two silhouettes drew close toward them.

He caught their scent on the breeze, wolves, similar to Francesca though the ripeness for action and violence was more prevalent in the air.

One was older, distinguished grey hairs at his temples; his features were square and stern. His skin was beginning to wrinkle and turn a leathery texture with years of heavy exposure to the sun. He was authoritative, he carried himself like a king, there was a shadow about him that was intimidating, and it made the small hairs on the back of Verain's neck stand to attention.

Francesca was twisting her hands together guiltily, her face turned down to her bare feet. "Papa."

Beatrice's father had shining black eyes that moved over Verain with barely restrained disdain. "So this is Beatrice's new pet."

"Papa." Francesca hissed. "This is Verain. I took him on a tour of-"

"You ran with him?" The younger man said, gnashing his teeth. Verain studied him for the first time, they were perhaps the same age, his face was delicate, more feline, his eyes a light shade of brown that moved with strong purpose. He stood at Mr Caravella's shoulder and glared openly at Verain.

Francesca didn't flinch at the young man's tone and openly returned his petulant stare. "I did."

Francesca's father studied Verain who was used to such intense scrutiny on Elysion, he was able to remain frozen and a calm coolness possessed his features.

The young man reached forward, drawing Francesca toward him with an arm around her shoulders. "Let's go. It's late."

"Interesting." Mr Caravella murmured and turned his back and followed the young wolf toward the gleaming red-skinned beast.

* * *

Updated 01/04/2012

Miss S


	21. Twenty One Update 01 04 2012

Twenty-One

* * *

The moonlight spilled into the temple of Sylvia in soft tendrils and cast half-moons and stars across Sin's upturned face. The whisper of the goddess flitted through her mind, cooing softly to her. The Mother Moon was kind. Sin prayed to all the gods she knew and to Sylvia too whilst she wondered at the growth of life in her belly.

Had her mother felt the same, she wondered. _Would it be a demon? _Had her own mother been tender at the thought of new life inside her? _Would it tear its way through her flesh?_

She touched her skin, cool, flat belying nothing of what was going on inside her. Though her flesh spoke nothing of the yawning gap inside her, the nothingness undone within her soul as Verain had departed like a dream. Despite that, Anata had not finished with her.

Sin had been inside the cool stone temple for days, between the carvings and cracks in the walls she could see the Hounds as they stalked back and forth, their muzzles close to the wall sucking and seeking the scent of her. They licked their lips hungrily. It was only a matter of time before they overwhelmed the old Hound, Voris. Only a matter of time before they had Sin caught between tooth and claw.

As if she had summoned him by thought, Voris materialised at the door with a bowl of steaming broth. She breathed the scent of food deeply but hesitated to rise and accept it from his crude hands.

"Venison." He said to assure her, his voice soft and his motions slow and deliberate so not to scare her.

She gingerly got onto her knees and accepted the proffered bowl. Stone faced, he watched in silence as she sipped from it. She finished half of it quickly but it didn't seem to touch any part of the hunger inside of her. He drew a hessian cloth around her shoulders to help ward off the night time chill but the chill was set deep in her bones.

Yawning silence filled the space between them until she could not stand it a moment longer. "What was Verain like?" She asked softly, it hurt to speak his name aloud and she didn't expect the tightness in her chest.

The old Hound drew in a deep breath and his brows seemed heavy with sadness and water was quick to fill his eyes. Sin felt a stab of familiar guilt, if it were not for her then Verain would never have defied the Meagesters and he would not have been banished from Elysion.

"Tell me of his mother." She said, trying to draw Voris to speak, to make himself more of a man than a wolf in disguise.

A smile transformed the Hound's face and she saw the phantom of what was once a striking man. She was relieved when he spoke. "She was beautiful." He said, his smile showing teeth. "Like you."

Sin looked at herself, covered in dirt, her hair matted together and smelling of her own waste. She didn't feel beautiful. She took to mean the mother was of a dark cast. "Her hair was brown as Elysion soil." He leaned forward and she flinched as he reached a hand toward her taking strands of her hair between his fingers. "She had a good soul."

"Who was her mother?" Sin asked, curious because she had never before seen a female Hound

"She was also like you." He said.

Sin took a moment to understand his meaning. "A slave?"

He nodded.

"It is forbidden." She said but her voice sounded hollow.

"It was." He admitted with ease. "It is."

Sin was preoccupied with wonder, to think a slave just as she was had defied the Maegesters long before she was born. It was wonderful and astonishing no matter the tragic end of it.

"We conducted ourselves in secret." Voris said and Sin could imagine them running together in the green glades of the southern slave hold, basking in the dawn, their hands entwined as they lay on the dew soaked grass. Perhaps that was the way between Hounds and humans, the electric spark, the magnetism she felt with Verain.

"But without consent of the House…were you not punished?"

"We were." He said and swallowed audibly. "She was given as food to the others." His chin fell against his chest and a shiver ran through him as he remembered the crunch of bone and tearing of skin. He had watched his own wretched son, Sorken tearing into his lover's flesh.

Sin was imaging the death, she could hear the phantoms of skin ripping and she dropped the broth bowl to the floor. She knew without a doubt that the Maegester had left her in the den to die, grunts and great sucking breaths assaulted her ears, the beasts still prowled outside of the temple. She moved to pick up the shards but Voris clutched her hands in his large ones. "The Maegester is a demon." She whispered.

"No." Voris said, still gentle. "He is not that."

"He killed your beloved, he will do as much to me." Sin began to tremble, part fear of being ripped limb from limb; maybe the thing inside her would tears its way out. What was it? Part god? Part demon?

"I will not let him." He said, his voice resonated in a growl.

"How can you say such a thing?" She asked in a panic.

Voris' eyes were the molten gold of Verain's eyes, intense and searing and she bit her tongue. "My grandson thought you worth defying his own father. For as long as I am able; I will protect you."

"I couldn't ask that boon of you."

"Nonetheless."

He picked up the bowl and slowly began to spoon the brother to her mouth. "Eat, if not for yourself then for the child."

She turned her face away. "Should I feed it at all? Maybe it hungers not for this but for blood."

"Shush." He said and placed another spoonful to her lips.

She began to cry, her salty tears a new ingredient in the broth. He fed her this way until she could have no more and he let her lay on the temple floor, her head cradled on her arms. She didn't dream.

* * *

"Daydreaming?" Pearl's voice was an unwelcome echo in the first rays of light. The women's hall was near -empty, shafts of sunlight filtered through the colourful stained glass throwing purple hues over the Lady of Elysion as she glided across the floor.

Linnea lifted her head from her harp, her eyes hazy with lingering thoughts.

"Penny for them." Pearl asked. "But why waste the coin? I know who your mind lingers on."

Lux St James. Spots of colour appeared on either of Linnea's cheeks, she could not refute Pearl's insinuation. To see him again had stirred such thoughts in her; perhaps there was more to life than what there was on Elysion…perhaps freedom….

"It's perverse. Isn't he your brother?" Pearl said. "Oh adopted, I know, but still. It's almost as distasteful as the thought of you bedding Lucerne."

Linnea's eyes shone an eerie shade of silver. "Careful, sister." She said in a small hiss. "You speak of what you know nothing about."

"I know that you have been smuggling letters to the mainland." Pearl smiled proud at her discovery, her eyes, a cool shade of blue, watched gleefully as Linnea grew ever more vexed. "Shall I guess as to whom the letters are being sent?"

Linnea took a breath and fortified herself, a pale eyebrow arched, she wore a glacial expression to rival Lucerne's. "Have you proof of such a thing?"

Pearl raised her chin as she strove to look imperious. "I have my sources."

"They lie." Linnea said firmly. "And besides I fail to see how such a thing could concern you."

"I am the Lady of Elysion, it all concerns me." Pearl said determined not to thrust out her bottom lip.

Linnea stood and approached her with the grace of a stalking beast. "Not a few seasons ago you were ripe and ready to part your legs for my brother, Lux. Is that not perverse?" Linnea said forcing her face close to Pearl's which caused the younger woman to pull back. "You would be wise to limit your concern to the child you carry, and yourself, we wouldn't want you to end up like the last wife."

Linnea strode out of the hall, head held high like a queen.

Pearl trembled with impotent rage, her hands moved to the swell of her belly, swollen with the aid of Alister's herbs and potions. She felt the fullness of her precarious position and worried, _what if Linnea knows of my deception? _

She knew she pressed Linnea, always trying to press the upper hand where she had none and now she was mystifying herself with anxieties that they would grow suspicious of her plans.

She forced herself to relax and move at a leisurely pace toward the gilded and green door that would lean to adjoining chambers. She looked behind her superstitiously before entering the room where Domitian paced back and forth.

He barely glanced up as she entered. "I mislike the whole thing." He muttered.

Pearl steeled herself and reached out to grasp his arm before he could return to pacing. "Only the best sacrifice will do." Pearl said, plying more lies. "Its' blood and body for the goddess, surely only this would suffice?"

Of course she referred to Lucerne's slave, the one he had favoured and had all of a sudden discarded. The slave with a name.

"And you would deliver all that you promised?" Domitian asked as he pulled her into his arms but she resisted his embrace, hands flying to her belly.

"Yes. I will do as I promised. I will make you a Lord proper, establish your family among those of the highest standing." She said taking a generous step away. "I need but speak with my father."

He looked amused as if he doubted her ability to do such a thing. "My father is a very influential vampire." She continued. "The Court itself will lay such titles upon you; Lucerne will be a mere trifle in rank."

She had been wise to his desires, after all he was just a man and as Linnea's interests faded and turned toward pining for Lux, Domitian's eyes had met Pearl's more often.

She knew Domitian liked to fuck the human slaves too and he too had desires of having Pearl that way but it would only be an idle distraction for him, though in time she knew she could fan the flames of enmity between him and her husband if she were to keep her legs closed.

For now it was enough to make empty promises. She wouldn't bother to contact her father, such things were forbidden to her under the marriage contract with Lucerne; she was to have no contact with others beyond Elysion. She was never sanctioned to leave Elysion unless Lucerne escorted her. She would never leave Elysion.

"I have heard they have taken it to the Den." Pearl said focusing his line of thought.

Domitian's nostrils flared in distaste.

"You fear the Hounds then?" She said prodding at his pride.

"I fear no beast." He responded and then made a exasperated sound low in his throat. "They've probably ripped it limb from limb by now."

"And if they haven't?" She said. "Would you have me offer blood and sacrifices of some lesser being?"

"What makes you think it more than any other slave?"

"It is an affront to the laws of this island." She said. "It thought to crawl above its station; I will sacrifice it to the goddess and avenge all those offended by its disobedience."

Pearl hated the slave more than she could express. Hated how a mere human girl had so easily gotten under Lucerne's skin. How an inconsequential little mouse had moved her husband to tenderness, tenderness he had never mustered for his own wife.

But in return for her blood, her corpse, Alister would continue to help her upkeep her deception as a proud and expectant mother.

It was a little before the Anean Preces that the bleeding had come upon her, she had had Alister attend her discreetly and he had confirmed her fears that she no longer carried a child.

She had entreated him to help her carry on the pretence which he had agreed to especially when she had promised him blood and meanwhile the knowledge of the slave's condition had found her through whispers amongst the Hounds and slaves.

At first she had been furious at the discovery, a base creature catching the seed of a king and allowing it to blossom in her womb. Succeeding where she had not. So Pearl had locked herself in her room and cried, and pitched her belongings around carelessly and tore at her hair in despair.

When the fury faded she was left to stare into the darkness, seeing nothingness, but soon a plan formed in her mind. She would take the slave's child as her own, no one would know, the slave would birth the child and Pearl would hand her corpse over to Alister to do with as he pleased.

Pearl would remain secluded for the latter part of the pregnancy, with the medic's insistence and at the right time present a child, Lucerne's child. The whole of its lineage would not have to be known. If the child would live. If the Hounds had not torn the slave limb from limb.

Domitian seemed satisfied by her tone. Dark thoughts moving behind his eyes as he stared at the Lady of Elysion. He seemed set to the task and nodded his agreement. "I will fetch her then in one piece or several."

"Lucerne must never know." She said before he left the room.

He glanced at her behind his shoulder. "I value my life, Lady." He said. "No such words would pass my lips."

She offered a smile as he closed the door behind him.

She paced for a time and the sound of horse hooves alerted her, she peered out of the small window and saw Domitian's figure sat astride, trotting away from the house as if in an idle excursion, giving no note to his destination.

She relaxed only a little.

She could trust Domitian to be discreet, and he would not have to know of the slave's fate after he put her into Pearl's hands, she had told him only of sacrifices to be made for the safe passage of her child and of course revenge.

Alister had already told her of hidden rooms and pathways that could conceal such a deception. All seemed well. Providing the child would live. Hard enough for Lamia to conceive, for a half breed it was even more dangerous. Humans were inferior in every sense, if it were to survive; she would have to train the child to be strong to embrace its bloody appetites.

The thought was not easy on her mind but it would secure her place in Elysion and she would not have to return to her father a failure or worse have him disown her as Lady Beatrice's family had done when she was cast out of Elysion.

It was amongst her biggest fears. She had long ago lost all illusions of a happy marriage and she had her pride, she loathed to return to her father having been cast aside by Elysion, no longer the virginal prize nor the apple of Marsigni's eye.

She emerged from the small room into the women's hall where a handful of women sat, some with a needle, others with books. Linnea stood at the farthest end of the hall, she stared at her suspiciously as if in wait.

Pearl lifted her chin high and sashayed toward her. "I am fatigued. I will take rest now and perhaps later some fresh air would be of good to us." She patted her belly.

Linnea continued to glare at her in silence.

Pearl escaped the hall; she picked up the hem of her skirt to walk easier, her free hand balled into a fist to disguise the trembling of her fingers.

* * *

The sun was in the middle of the sky by the time Domitian arrived at the posts of the Hound's Den. He loathed the journey down the dirt path, his horse as reluctant as he was to make the journey.

His arrival was welcomed by the musty scent of wolf fur and animal sweat, the undercurrent of raw meats in stages of decay. Dark shapes of the Hounds disguised as men moved in the distance. He peered at them with narrowed eyes.

_Dirty beasts._ Domitian came from the main land originally; the dislike and distrust of shape shifters had been ingrained in him from an early age. He had served the Court for a time; it was how he had gained purchase in Elysion.

It had been decades ago now, so many, he hoped most had forgotten that he had never been born on the island. Lucerne had taken a liking to him, for Domitian loved to hunt, to ride, to fuck: to idle away the hours like a king without a care.

The familiar old Hound strode out of the temple and purposefully toward him. Domitian took his time to dismount; he would not rush to meet with the old dog.

"What do you seek?" Voris asked, not quite meeting him at the entrance, the beginnings of a growl beneath his voice.

The lack of propriety irked Domitian. The old Hound would still not defer to him as his Maegester, a title he would only afford Lucerne or others born of the island.

"The slave, does it live?" He asked eyes on his hands as he peeled his riding gloves from his long, elegant fingers.

"She does." He recognised the wolf Volka, stride from somewhere unseen, his feet silent upon the dirt. He came to stand beside Voris, a threatening shadow, his yellow eyes meeting Domitian's without fear or deference and again the vampire took offence. "Can't you smell her?"

Domitian glared from one Hound to the next. "Give it to me."

"She was given to me by the Maegester." Voris said and his hands balled into fists as if to contain a great rage.

"And I would have her from you. Quickly." Domitian said.

"Wait." Voris said, Volka stepped between them. But Voris did not go for Domitian as both Volka and Domitian anticipated. Instead he turned his back on Domitian and strode toward the temple with his head held high and his eyes kept forward.

Voris found the girl already on her feet, the rough blanket folded neatly and put aside, her ruined dress barely enough to conceal her respectability. She had heard the exchange, and appeared resolute, as if already accepting her death. "You do not have to go." He said.

"I am a slave; I only do what is commanded of me." She said in a dull voice.

Voris looked sympathetic but did not move stop her, he stood to one side and gave a respectful bow of his head and she walked out. He marvelled as she walked with her head high, her movements graceful, she was more a Lady than a slave in that instant.

Domitian snorted at the sight of Lucerne's slave, his lips curled in distaste. "It is intact." He approved of that at least, a clean sacrifice for Anata, as Pearl had wished.

Voris stood at the girl's shoulder, a menacing shadow whose eyes began to radiate the beast within its human cage. Domitian was very slightly afraid, for Voris was known to be an impressive beast and unrivalled upon the sands. "Where are you taking her?"

"Wherever I please." He said snidely. "It is of no concern to you, slave."

"You are to come with me, understand?" He said gruffly, not meeting the slave's eyes, confident the animal could obey the simple instruction.

"Yes, Maegester." She said and followed.

Voris grasped her wrist holding her back, many words trembled on his lips and rueful shine filled his eyes, a sigh puffed past his lips and he spoke. "Are you sure?"

She nodded and he released her.

Domitian disliked the hold she had seemed to take on the old Hound, the same mysterious magic that had Lucerne cling to her and the bastard little nuisance Verain. It would not infect him; he resolved and turned his back on the two watching Hounds.

He could hear the rest of them slinking in the recesses of the den, felt the malicious intent like cold fingers on the back of his neck.

Sin looked at the single horse. "Am I to follow on foot, Maegester?" She asked.

He growled, angry that she would speak when not permitted and unable to resist he struck her across the face, blood burst from her lip. "Do not speak to me." He said.

The Hounds watched but they could do nothing, Volka put a hand on Voris' shoulder holding him back. Domitian wondered if he need concern himself with silencing them, though they knew him to be the second man on Elysion and would presume his orders were from Lucerne himself.

The slave recovered masterfully falling back into a proper stance.

Domitian mounted the horse and grasped her easily with one hand, displaying his vampiric strength, he hauled her onto the horse; she lay across the saddle on her belly. Uncomfortable. Uneasy. The horse was uneven with the distribution of weight and kicked dust into her face, it filled her throat.

Domitian used his crop to whip her thighs, she didn't squirm as much as he anticipated, and didn't complain as he thought she might.

He made his way down unlit, hidden paths, behind the house and away from any attended roads. There was a slave to greet him at his destination, it beckoned him forward. "Are you at the bidding of the Lady?" He asked.

The girl was young, grey eyed and pale, she nodded vigorously. "Speak." Domitian demanded.

Sin could not raise her head to spy the exchange, her limbs were heavy and body useless; feeling sick and afraid to draw attention to herself.

The grey-eyed girl opened her mouth to show the stump of her tongue. Domitian gave a perverse half smile. He dismounted and Sin fell to the dirt with a thud, the girl quickly stepped forward to help her to her feet.

Domitian grasped the mute girl by the chin and stared into her grey eyes. "Come seek me later, before first light. Do you know my chambers? The door that bears my mark?" The girl nodded.

He went back to his horse and paused to catch the mute girl's eye. "When you sacrifice the whore, cut her slowly, make her suffer, that would please the goddess greatly." Domitian left.

A line formed in the space between the girl's grey eyes. Sin felt strangely bereft as Domitian left, what was the Maegester doing now? What was Lucerne's command? Was she to be sacrificed like an animal? She looked into the unfamiliar face of the grey-eyed slave, looking for answers but finding none.

Perhaps this girl was Lucerne's new favoured slave; Sin struggled with the strange sense of envy, the dark vain little part of her that had fed on the Maegester's want of her, his speeches and whispers of how he set her above all others. _Stupid vanity,_ she berated herself.

She was distraught; it was so easy to get lost down the winding paths of fantasy. The girl's hands were cool on her elbow and wrapped around her hip, she helped Sin to the small door, it was a slave's path that lead into the house.

The girl navigated expertly.

The breath of the house was so familiar, lingering jasmine, incense, candle smoke and the perfumes of the Ladies of Elysion. Sin feared it: she didn't want to return to the cold grey walls or Lucerne's equally cold embrace. She was scared, she couldn't deny her fear. Any bravado she had had when she left the Den, that kept her closed lipped as Domitian had struck her, deserted her instantly.

The mute girl squeezed her hands but she didn't know if it was from sympathy or reprimand.

A door opened in the distance, dim light illuminated a small, simple chamber, a cot, a chair, a chamber pot, the girl pointed earnestly to the cot. Sin sat on the edge waiting with mock patience. The girl made a strange, strangled noise as she touched Sin's face, Sin winced as the girl's fingertips landed on her swollen lip.

The girl pushed her gently to lie down, she acquiesced with wide eyes and allowed the girl to arrange the covers around her. She soon left, locking the door behind her.

Sin's mind was mad with thought of what was to come. She expected Lucerne to stride inside and beat her…or worse. Perhaps he would beat her so bad she would mourn the loss of the child in her womb? The child in her womb…her constant companion, the unknown creature who was part her and part other.

She wanted the goddess to return to her dreams, she wanted the old woman to divulge her destiny in a vision far away from the confinement of these four grey walls. But those dreams never came and she was left with only darkness and exhaustion.

* * *

_Wake up_. The celestial voice whispered in the shell of Sin's ear, it penetrated through the fog of sleep. _Wake_. The voice was sweet, gentle, the beckoning of a kind spirit.

Sin woke with shudder and a goddess filled her vision, a golden cascade of sunshine curls surrounded a pair of cool blue eyes. "Good, it's alive."

Sin lifted her head, colour drained from her face as she realised the woman was no goddess at all but the Lady of Elysion. The very sight of her in the prison-like cell was extraordinary. "Get up." Pearl demanded her tone no longer having a silky quality of the heavens but a clipped, irritated tenor.

Sin couldn't organise her limbs and only managed to sit up. A shadow fell over her. The medic, Alister was standing at the Lady's back, his eyes moved hungrily over her.

"Look how it stares." Pearl snarled showing her sharp teeth to wilfully intimidate the slave.

"One looks much the same as any other." Alister murmured. "Though if the Maegester sees fit to put seed inside a slave it must have qualities above its kind."

Pearl's mouth arranged itself into a thin, angry line. "Does it understand us?"

"To some degree I should think."

"Do you understand me, slave?" Pearl asked.

Sin nodded, yes.

"Good. Then you will follow me when I tell you that I want what you have."

Sin's eyes became wide; she did not comprehend the Maistresse's words for she was but a slave and all that she was belonged to the Lords and Ladies of Elysion. Pearl made a sound low in her throat and Sin dropped her head fearing the Maistresse's wrath.

"I in turn will grant you a boon." Pearl said.

Sin lifted her head, eyes meeting, a flicker of doubt crossed Sin's gaze and Pearl drew herself to stand tall and imperious. "I am the Lady of Elysion." She said, summoning her best authoritative voice. "Tell me what you will and I will see it done."

"At what price, Maistresse?" Sin's voice was husky from the road dust and lack of sleep.

Pearl smiled toothily. "You carry Lucerne's child."

The girl sucked in a shaky breath. "You want it?"

"I will claim this child as my own heir and you will not speak of this to anyone. To all you are already dead." Pearl said as if to reason with her. "And in return…what do you ask?"

Sin's mind was alive with possibilities but as broad as her desires were she could only utter one word. "Freedom."

"What?" Pearl asked as she had not heard.

"Freedom." Sin said more loudly. "I want to be free of the House."

Pearl laughed. Even in her short time in Elysion she knew that there was no such thing as freedom. She inclined her head nonetheless. "Okay."

Alister's gaze slid sharply to Pearl, his lips parted and pursed on an unspoken protest.

"But first you wash." Pearl said and motioned to the grey-eyed girl to come forward. The girl's eyes were wide with knowledge but her mouth was set grim with determination to obey the Maistresse.

"Leave." Pearl commanded Alister whose features became carefully blank though it was evident his upset was not forgotten. He gave a perfunctory bow and disappeared from the room.

In the far corner of the room there was a large bath that had never been there before, it was a large, luxurious porcelain tub with elaborate gold detail and gilded clawed feet. Sin had no recollection of it when first entering the room. Water steamed within it, sweet scent rose with the steam and petals floated on its surface. It was the Maistresse's bath.

Sin pushed the covers down to expose her soiled dress which was heavy and stinking on her skin.

"I must apologise." The Maistresse said her pleasant tone, unconvincing; further betrayed by the hatred keen in her blue gaze, hatred tinged with the bitter edge of jealousy. "You have been treated badly."

"I have drawn you a bath." She went to stand beside the tub, the steam like a mist curling around her, her golden beauty ethereal in the dim light. She was flawless, a goddess as she had often thought, Sin felt woefully inadequate next to her.

"Take off that thing." Pearl said offended by her appearance.

Sin did as she was asked, shaky fingers peeled off the cloth, the rags of her dress fell in a damp brown mess until she was nude.

Pearl stared at her skin, her delicate nose curled at the assault on her senses; she beckoned for the slave to climb into the bath and Sin did so with unerring slowness. She dipped her foot beneath the water and it was hot, almost painful, but she continued until she was sat in the centre of the bath.

Pearl had a jar of more steaming water and poured it over Sin's head, half drowning her. Dirt curled away from her body and she closed her eyes until her flesh had become accustomed to the heat.

She froze as the Maistresse's hands touched her hair, her skin, sharp fingernails scraping lightly down her back. "I will not harm you." Pearl whispered by her ear and Sin shivered again.

"To think Verain would go mad over such an ordinary human. You look like the rest of them, you know. You all look the same. But I've tasted your blood. They say you have the blood of that goddess in you. Perhaps then your child will be enough to pass as my own: not full blood Lamia but somewhere between a vampire and a god."

Sin allowed herself to look at the Maistresse fully and saw for the first time her belly full of life. Sin swallowed a lump in her throat as she mulled over the bargain they struck. Though the Maistresse's eyes were misty and melancholy, Sin wondered if Lucerne had ever been tender to her.

The Lady seemed to read her thoughts for she said. "The Lamia do not marry for love but for advantage." _What strange magic has me confessing such a thing to a slave?_ Pearl thought and withdrew abruptly. She motioned for the mute girl to assist the slave in any way to see the child in her belly to fruition.

She left the room without looking back leaving Sin to relax her limbs in the waters that were cooling fast.

The mute girl tugged on her arm, helping her out of the tub, she dried her with a cloth, careful to wipe the small swell of her belly and then wrapped her in layers of chiffon that covered her from throat to foot.

She was brought a platter of foods, the scents so delicious that water filled Sin's mouth and when it was laid in front of her she grabbed at it without compunction filling her mouth greedily with bread, meat and cheese. She had never been fed so well.

The grey-eyed girl stared at her fretfully but did not intervene.

When she had finished the girl took the platters away leaving Sin alone with the four grey walls.

* * *

Updated 01/04/2012

Miss S


	22. Twenty Two Update 01 04 2012

Twenty-Two

* * *

Dinner. It was not a masquerade but all the attendees wore elaborate masks, smiles stretched painfully across cruel mouths, eyes moved this way and that, sly and scheming. Vampires of note and lesser qualities moved, smiling pleasantly, exchanging shallow sentiments, masking their loathing until they met again at Court. Politics were imminent in every calculated gesture.

The allies of the Lady Beatrice were cautious, newly acquainted, not sure where the young House sat amongst Houses.

Beatrice, for all her mad machinations had become smart. People from all spheres of life attended, from vampires of the Court, to witches of prominent covens across Europe as well as the pack master of the local werewolf pack.

Beatrice dazzled in a red satin gown, she charmed with her gushy greetings and intimate knowledge of families and friends. All were drawn to her because she forged connections between all tribes of People, unlike the established vampire Houses who preferred to keep their acquaintance within their own species.

"Ciao Benito." She laid kisses on the air either side of the pack master's cheek. "It is an honour to have you in my house."

Beatrice quickly scanned the room to identify the whereabouts of his wolves. There was a mere handful, a female wolf was talking in low tones with the witch Senora Todisco, one of his lesser wolves was prowling around the buffet table and his earnest second in training Matteo Agresta lingered in a corner, a glass of wine clutched white knuckled in his hand, his eyes glued to Francesca Caravella who stood beside a striking Verain.

The Hound had surprised her, he was unfailing in his politeness and had all the allure of someone born of Elysion. She noticed the attraction between him and the she-wolf right away and was pleased, Verain was beholden to Beatrice and should the attraction between the wolves ignite into flames of passion then she would have a firm grasp on Francesca too.

Benito Caravella's mouth twitched as his eyes followed hers toward Francesca and Verain. "Perhaps we might talk in private, senora?" He said, his voice only a few octaves above a growl.

"Of course." She said, forcing the smile on her ruby painted lips. Eyes followed them across the room, murmurs rose, conversations were conducted hidden behind hands, and sly glances over the shoulder. She could not be seen to favour one over many; every move had repercussions and reparations were to be made.

She took him to a private drawing room and his energy seemed to fill the room instantly, however he kept his anger tightly leashed.

A light switched on in the back revealing Lux sitting at the drawing desk, one leg folded on his knee as if he had planned to be there all along. Beatrice was relieved.

"I wish to talk in private." The pack master said hotly.

"What you have to say can be said in front of Lux, he is my most trusted friend."

Caravella did not look please but he erupted nonetheless. "I will not have you whore my daughter to your guests."

Of course he meant Francesca and Verain's burgeoning relationship. They had spent barely a day together and the energy between them was electric.

"What's going on?" Lux asked.

"Benito is concerned about the time his daughter is spending in the villa."

Lux glared. "If your daughter has formed an attachment to the Hound it is a natural thing born of her own free will."

"He is not one of us." He was too stressed to articulate further.

"No." Beatrice said an edge in her voice. "He is a prince with the blood of gods in his veins, quite different from you."

Benito glared at her but didn't speak, it pricked his pride but there was curiosity in him too.

"I would not presume to interfere with the rights of your kind, Benito." She said in a honey-like tone. "Francesca is a valued friend. I would not have her do anything against her will nor would I permit any of my…guests to break with propriety. Your daughter has granted me a gracious favour in showing my young guest around these grounds, she can return to you at any time."

"Her honour is paramount." Benito said.

"Of course."

"She has defied me."

"She is young and head strong." Beatrice said taking his arm. "Perhaps…"

Lux tuned out as Beatrice placated the pack leader. One vampire house was as bad as another. The People were all about honour or at least the appearance of it, but darkness mired their reputations, every House had its talk of oath breakers and law breakers.

That was why Lux had loved Lauren who had been a gracious father and whose honour had never been bought into question. Beatrice however, had lost her honour long ago because Lucerne had stripped it from her as he had her sanity.

Lux barely acknowledged Benito leaving; his anxiety assuaged for now by some comforting titter Beatrice had come up with.

Beatrice remained, her eyes staring into nothingness, lost in thought. He half-wondered if she were unravelling and half-wondered what game she meant to play with Francesca Caravella who was such a sweet and stupid little girl who knew nothing of _life._

Lux had learned the ways of this world long ago, after Lucerne had exiled him, he had been thrust into the vampire court as a ward of those only too pleased to take on a young, ignorant, beautiful adept. He had toiled under the fosterage of several Houses but they tired of him quickly and he never stayed in one place overly long.

If it were not for St James he would have been victim of the scheming and manipulative People that Beatrice so desperately wanted to keep the allegiance of.

Beatrice shook herself out of her reverie and her eyes came to set upon Lux, slyly Lux pushed the small sheaf of paper he had been reading beneath a stack of books. It had been penned by Linnea and received only moments before; he had been reading it when Beatrice had burst in with the pack master.

He took pains to hide the letter from her as she approached him. "She will draw him out of his shell." Lux said of Francesca and Verain. "Let her stay as long as she may, Caravella will get used to it in time."

"Lucerne had him trained rather well, didn't he?" She said.

Lux didn't mention the incident of Verain's defiance; he still hadn't divulged in full the event that had sealed Verain's fate and exile from his homeland. He had not written of how the dark haired human girl had clung to him after he emerged victorious from his battle with the Hound's Champion, her eyes wet with emotion, their heads meeting and lips fluttering in goodbyes.

"Well when you consider it, the Hound is the rightful heir of Elysion, being the eldest of Lucerne's surviving children." Beatrice mused aloud and he detected the bitter edge to his voice for Lux knew none of the children she had conceived had survived.

"He is a bastard." Lux said dryly. "He cannot inherit."

"But his only child yet."

"I have heard whispers that his wife now carries his heir." He confessed, allowing at least this one admission from Linnea's letter.

Beatrice stare was icy. "We'll just keep our fingers and toes crossed shall we. How did you come by this news?"

"I cannot say."

"Still keeping secrets?"

He straightened and then stood up to move away from the desk and the letter, drawing Beatrice away from the discovery of it.

The letter held such meaning that only Lux would appreciate, not only of Pearl's pregnancy or the recent celebrations of Anata but of a past shared, the small first experiences of children learning to love. Linnea's scent lingered on the page and now clung to his fingertips and curled up into his nostrils, intoxicating him, stirring the familiar ache of love.

Beatrice was so unlike Linnea. Linnea was good, intelligent and calm whilst Beatrice had been driven insane on her quest for vengeance, against Lucerne, against Elysion itself. She didn't care for anything else which was why he knew she was not capable of love.

The first time he lay with Beatrice had taken him by surprise, they both commiserated with one another as one time residents of the island. There was no real affection between but those forged in the memories of Elysion.

He was glad that Verain had taken a liking to Francesca and so too did Francesca for Verain, even having spent only a short time together had improved Verain's melancholy countenance greatly. Verain had an opportunity to shine here where in Elysion Lucerne would not allow it. Lux could believe Beatrice's dangerous train of thoughts, Verain could be prince.

But Beatrice would only wish to exploit his ties of blood. This was one of the reasons that Lux would not betray Linnea's communication for he didn't want Linnea cited in Beatrice's radar, he would not let her be a mere pawn of revenge. He wanted to keep his memories of Linnea good and pure, even the recent memory of her, smelling sweet and grown to womanhood she was everything light and good in the world.

Beatrice ran a hand over his shoulders and he sighed. "Come to me tonight?" She asked.

"If it is your wish, my Lady." He said trying not to stiffen beneath his touch.

"No." Beatrice snapped. "Only if it is yours also."

He sighed again and she strode out of the room angrily, her dress slithered across the ground, the door slammed behind her.

He remained behind for a little while, reclaiming his seat and he fished out the letter which he held against his lips and sniffed.

There was a clipped knock at the door, but before he could bid the person to enter the door opened and a slender figure was silhouetted in the door. "I'd thought I'd find you hiding here."

St James had chosen to stop ageing in his mid-twenties, a handsome golden haired vampire whose mouth was schooled into a slightly ironic smile. He was handsomely dressed in a three piece suit and gleaming dinner shoes, marked by the lingering influence of the 1920s.

"St James." Lux greeted him with a toothy smile. "I'm glad you've come."

"I warned you about pledging yourself to the harpy." St James said and clasped Lux's outstretched hand shaking it vigorously before being pulled into a hug.

St James made no secret of his disapproval of Beatrice, he was a Lamia born in a time just after the ancient ones, where women were not allowed to head Houses and men had all the authority of the world. Women were already too powerful without being given that mantel of power also.

He was especially cautious of witches and had frowned upon the influential Redfern patriarch mixing his blood with that of a Harman. There was a deep history yet to be told about his mistrust.

"How have you been?" Lux asked.

"Busy." St James said and took a seat opposite his son, folding one leg across his knee. His turquoise eyes were as sharp as blades boring into Lux without any hint of malice or fear.

The post was startlingly familiar, Lux remembered him sitting thusly when he had been presented to him at Court. St James was not tied to a particular House; he roamed free across all Houses.

Lux poured whiskey from a decanter on the desk into two crystal tumblers and pushed one across the table to St James. He accepted the glass swirling the drink around before sipping from it. "What troubles you, boy?"

Lux glanced up at him.

"Elysion." St James guessed from his expression. Lux's shoulders sagged confirming his presumption whilst his hands clutched at the jewel at his neck. "It infects you."

"It is unlike anything you have ever known."

"Perhaps one day I would have cause to visit."

Lux looked at him sharply, knowing no one could get into Elysion without consent of the court and Lucerne's personal seal. It had happened once after years of wrangling and petitions from Beatrice. Elysion was one of the most ancient and secretive vampire enclaves to have ever existed.

St James smiled. "It has been a long time."

"Indeed it has."

"I see Beatrice has got her hooks firmly in you."

"It's nothing I can't handle."

"And yet methinks there is another Lady whose hooks make deeper purchase."

Linnea. St James knew everything about her and as a child Lux had spoken of her often. "She writes to me from Elysion. Lucerne's wife carries an heir."

"You think he could stay his hand from beating it out of her?" St James muttered and swallowed the whole of his drink.

Lux shrugged. "He could secure his hold on Elysion with this child."

"He could have done that with the others also." St James pointed out.

Lux shrugged. "Only time will tell."

"Why do you think he did it?" St James pushed, always wanting to Lux to think deeper into the matter, to reveal all the possibilities and if possible the truth.

"Perhaps he did not like his first wife?"

"I'm sure he detests his second." St James murmured bitterly, he himself disliked Pearl's family, the Marsigni were a shallow family who had manipulated their way into the graces of those well connected and allied themselves with those with power. They did not pay heed to the traditions nor did they have respect for the ancient ones. Their House was not so old but through deceit and business had awarded themselves with airs and graces.

"Lucerne thinks himself above the law." Lux said.

"Even if you could prove such things to the vampire court it will not give you any further airs in Elysion." St James warned. "Beatrice also thinks herself above the law and her madness will only destroy her."

"What is mad about revenge?"

"Why, everything." St James smiled sweetly. "She wants to see Lucerne suffer and surely that will come to pass. And once he has gone what shall she do? Seek for you to take Lucerne's place? Elysion will not have those not born of its flesh. They will deny her."

Lux gritted his teeth. If they would deny Beatrice then they would deny him too.

"Do not think of the past, son. We must think of the future. There are Circles forming in America of great interest."

"What care have I for witches?"

"You should have a care. Alliances are being made between ancient enemies."

"What does that mean?"

"Ancient beasts stir in the earth, prophecies will be fulfilled."

"And whose agenda do you serve?" Lux asked. "Are you for the vampires?"

"I am in favour of survival." St James said. "I am quite fond of this earth; I have walked it for hundreds of years and it never ceases to amaze me. I have not finished with it yet."

"The Court should have executed you long ago."

St James laughed. "The Court is deteriorating, they fail to pay heed to the old ways and in their desperation to survive they water down their laws and their blood. If we are to rule we must be as we once were."

"You chastise me for the mere thought of seeking to be a King and yet you yourself wish to preside over this earth."

"I am an awful hypocrite." He conceded.

They laughed together and poured another drink.

* * *

Verain wanted to fidget, if it were not for his fine training he would have been scratching at his collar. He felt constricted. He felt suffocated. The party glittered around him, far more restrained than any affair he was used to. Lady Beatrice sashayed back and forth across the room to address everyone.

He had shaken hands with most of the people in attendance. Francesca's father pointedly ignored him but Verain could feel the eyes of his young second, Matteo burning into his skull.

"Ignore him." Francesca murmured and handed him a glass of red wine. "Relax."

She put a hand on his arm and Verain could almost hear the growl from the young wolf behind him. It made him tense, his body prepared for a fight.

"What an asshole." Francesca said under her breath and gulped down the wine in her own glass.

Verain didn't touch the contents of his glass; he didn't want to be intoxicated, he was too used to being on alert as it had been his job to remain so on Elysion. Francesca made some excuses to go to the bathroom and left him standing alone in the middle of the room.

People stared but they did not approach him. He craned his neck to look for Lux, perhaps he would offer some respite, or maybe Verain could offer some excuse of his own to leave. His ears buzzed with the whispers and tinkle of laughter from the gathered guests.

Paranoia grew and he felt stifled by the titters of talk around him, perhaps talking about him. He began to grow hot, dizzy, his finger trying to make space between his throat and collar once more.

Suddenly Mr Caravella was in front of him, his dark eyes narrowed, his darker darker brows drawn together in a frown. "Verain, is it?"

He bowed his head. "My Lord."

Mr Caravella snorted. He was no Lord. But he would not correct Verain in words; he liked the deference the young wolf was showing him. "I have been watching you."

"Yes, Maegester."

"You are fond of my daughter."

"I met her yesterday, Maegester. She has been kind to me." Verain conceded, wise to the note of discontent in the old wolf's voice.

Caravella searched his eyes, his nostrils flared slightly; the invisible entity that was his beast tried to get to grips with Verain's. But Verain was indeed something different from him. Hounds were not werewolves; they were of an older line of skin walkers, and Verain was different in that his father was a Lamia.

The young wolf came to shadow the pack master, his dour glare disconcerting. Verain's eyes flicked to his and then back to the older man. "As a wolf in my territory, I think it only appropriate for you to attend_ my_ court."

"As you will, Maegester." Verain conceded with another bow.

Leaning in close, Caravella's words were a painfully low growl. "Stay away from my daughter. She is not for you, do you understand?"

Verain nodded again.

Caravella departed the moment Francesca re-entered the room, Verain watched her approach just as the young male wolf lingered a moment more, he leaned forward and whispered in Verain's ear. "She belongs to me." He tipped the wine glass from Verain's hand and spilled its contents over his shirt.

"Matteo." Francesca hissed and the young wolf spun away from Verain to follow the pack master out of the room.

Francesca materialised handfuls of serviettes and pressed them to Verain chest in a vain attempt to soak up the wine and remove the stain. "I'm so sorry."

Verain looked around, embarrassed. "Please, don't make a fuss." He took hold of the cloth and put the wad back in her hands. "I will take my leave to change."

Beatrice eyes were stormy as she looked at Verain from across the room, the red stain spread across his crisp white shirt. "How clumsy." She said airily, loud enough for all to hear. "Do hurry back dear." She addressed Verain. "You wouldn't want to miss the rest of the party."

Verain paused in step to give her a bow of acknowledgment and he left the room.

As soon as he was in the corridor, confident that he was out of ear shot he fled like a rabbit escaping the jaws of a Hound. He ran, as if he could outrun his anger and humiliation.

If these wolves were Hounds then the matter would be resolved in a fair fight and each Hound could hold their head up high. Though in truth since he had been made to serve Elysion as the Maegester's man he had been exempt from the games: protected by the Maegester's favour.

He knew now, in this world he would have to protect himself. His wolf called for blood, growling in his head until it was almost unbearable. But the rational part of his mind didn't want to fight, he had barely been on the mainland and he had already made enemies.

There was timid knock on his door.

Verain stood shirtless in the middle of his room, clutching the soaked shirt in his hands. "It's open." He said.

Francesca appeared, still holding the wine soaked serviettes. Her expression was both shy and apologetic. "I'm sorry about my father, he's overprotective but he doesn't mean anything bad by it-"

"It's fine." He said, though the muscle in his jaw twitched belying his statement.

"I'm really sorry." She said again but the apology gave way to her stare, her eyes focused on his exposed chest. Her breath became shallow. "Verain?"

"I need to change." He said, but made no move to do so, the last thing he wanted was to return to Beatrice's dinner.

"I know." She said biting her lip.

The serviettes slipped from her hands. "I've never run with anyone like you before." She confessed, the edge of awe crept into her voice. He watched her carefully as she became more bold and approached close enough to touch but not touching.

"My father intends me for Matteo but I don't love him."

"There is time for you to learn to love him, Francesca." He murmured. It was the way of marriage on Elysion, for advantage and not love. Love it seemed was a forbidden thing…he had a fleeting thought of Sin and his chin dropped to his chest.

Francesca reached out and lifted his chin, she met his eye and he felt her lust like a spear, it caused him to shudder. "I don't want to love him. Not like that."

Verain shrugged and cleared his throat, trying to dislodge the unease of his sudden heightened senses. She was looking him in _that _way. "You should go back to dinner, your father will be worried-"

"Fuck him." She growled as she trailed her fingers down his chest, and the muscles rippled beneath her touch. They shared a look and it was filled with irresistible heat. Her mouth fell open and a long breath passed her lips, before she swallowed, choked with lust.

Unseen their wolves tested one another, Verain's entity larger than Francesca's, it took hold of her almost instantly and her wolf responded to his, falling into submission.

He grasped her wrist, tight enough to hurt but gentle enough not to bruise. "What are you doing?" He asked.

They barely knew each other and Caravella's growl was still a phantom in his ear.

"It doesn't have to be complicated." She said. "I know you find me attractive." Her eyes slipped to the bulge in his jeans.

"Nothing is ever without complication." He said and released her and she rubbed her aching wrist though her eyes were bright and stuck to his face.

Without breaking her gaze she slipped out of her dress, her nipples were hard and swollen, the dark fur between her legs glistening. The scent of her brought a growl from his throat.

"Verain-" He took hold of her arms suddenly and bent his lips down to hers, hovering over her mouth, tasting her hot, wine spiced breath.

"Things will change." He warned her.

"I don't care." She responded breathily.

He sealed his mouth on hers, tongue dipping between her lips, tasting her.

The pleasure and passion overwhelmed them both. There was no thought of Sin as he picked Francesca easily from the floor, her tanned muscled thighs wrapping around his waist, tight and secure.

He burrowed his face in the space between her chin and collarbone and became drunk on her scent: the musk of the she-wolf and the wildness that was unique to her.

He threw her on the bed.

Francesca wasn't shy nor submissive as the women on Elysion were taught to be submissive. She had a vision of Sin averting her eyes, the tantalising look of her through the slim crack of the Maegester's door as she removed her dress.

The vision made him freeze.

"Verain?" Francesca gasped.

"I can't do this." The realisation was a bitter blow, he couldn't do what he hadn't shared with Sin. Even if for a moment, Francesca had made him forget all about Elysion and Sin...

The sensation of Sin in his arms haunted him now and he couldn't go on.

"What are you talking about?" She said and reached to take hold of his arm.

"I can't…lay with you." He whispered.

"It's just sex." Francesca said and made an exasperated sound.

She climbed off the bed, picked up her dress and stomped out of the room. She slammed the door behind her and it he winced, sinking down to sit on the floor with his head grasped in his hands.

* * *

Updated 01/04/2012

Miss S


	23. Twenty Three First Draft 12 05 12

Twenty-Three

* * *

Sin was perched at the edge of her cot, her eyes red with fever dreams. Even in the waking hours her vision was tinged with a hazy red glow, the burnished gold of the dying sun. She spent half the night in earnest prayer, beseeching the gods she knew, the other half she was at the mercy of nightmares, gnarled and twisting darkness.

"Do you have any pain?" The medic's features were drawn and serious, he loomed over her, his eyes searched her face but he did not meet her gaze.

Sin shook her head, no; though she could not disguise her wan complexion and the circles deepening beneath her eyes. She had been so long in doors that she was no longer accustomed to the light and she appeared pale and gaunt.

Her hands were placed on the large swell of her belly, as if she could cup the child inside her skin. She was terribly lonely, her mouth desolate with it, her lips were dry, broken, beads of blood stained her skin.

She had been waiting all morning, perhaps it was morning, she had lost concept of night and day, spending all hours confined within the four stone walls. Accompanied by the sweet lingering perfume of the Lady of Elysion and the bitter smell of her own waste.

"Do you get enough rest?"

"Yes." She lied.

He took hold of her face with one hand and moved it this way and that, he lifted her lips to look at her teeth, inspecting her as the stewards had done at the Choosing. "And how does the child fare with the blood?"

"Fine." Another lie; she had not been drinking the blood. Every day the grey eyed girl with the severed tongue brought with her a cup of blood upon a silver serving tray. The cup was crystal and the blood was sinfully crimson filled to the brim.

The medic seemed satisfied.

His eyes slip to her chest. The jewels Lucerne had given her gleamed at her throat, refracting rainbow light into her eyes. "You seem to have a great affinity for the…goddess." Alister said. His eyes flicked to hers momentarily, the first time he had met her gaze since he had entered the room.

Sin didn't respond to him, not knowing what to say that would please him and she feared to speak more might displease him. Though he had never been cruel to her he was cold, remote as if he thought she were no more than a piece of meat.

"Do you know where she went when she left this isle?"

"She ascended into the celestial heavens." Sin said, her voice gravelly with lack of use and uncertainty.

"The heavens?" He asked, eyes wide with mocking surprise. "Is that so?"

"She is where she wants to be." Sin said her jaw set grimly. "The sky, the land, the sea..." Her dreams.

"I pity you ignorant slaves. You have no idea who or what she truly was." He mumbled to himself. "If only you had true wits..."

"She is our mother." Sin interrupted; her voice firm. "This is all we need know of her."

He stared at her; shocked by the strength beneath her human frailty. Was she this bold with the Maegester, he wondered. He cleared his throat and packed his medical kit away.

"Lie you down and get some rest. I will return on the morrow." He held out the crystal glass, new blood shining malevolently. "Drink the blood and feed the child."

Sin took it from him, the glass was heavy in her hand, her wrist ached instantly. She held his gaze as she pressed the edge to her lips and took the smallest sip. He seemed satisfied and left the room. The instant he had gone she bent over, with difficulty spitting the bitter blood into the chamber pot and poured the contents of the glass in there as well.

If the grey-eyed girl had ever noticed, Sin had disposed of the blood every day into the pot.

She could feel the child move in her belly, a small uneasy thrill, as If it were moving in response to the touch of blood that was on her tongue. She placed her hands on her bump and rubbed small circles as if to sooth the child within. She still feared what it was becoming inside her.

She waned with each passing day, her dreams had become more vivid but they were hard to recall, as delicate as spider silk, the moment she thought upon it splintered and fell apart. It seemed the larger her stomach swelled the more her ears picked up the whispers of the House and the sibilance of the celestial.

Her eyes flickered closed and she felt a trickle of cool air on her cheeks. She rose up from the bed, eyes seeking answers in the semi-darkness.

She went to the door and felt it yield beneath her hands, creaking open into the slave corridor. Astonishment ignited her senses and then pounding of her heart as guilt came quickly to replace her surprise. Then she heard the whisper of her name, a whisper in the dark, she recognised the ethereal quality of its voice, its breath. "Abba?" She responded.

Her pulse so fast she could feel it in her tongue, the child moved restlessly inside her. She hung onto the door, making slow progress out of the room, her movements sluggish, limbs heavy as if her baby were leaching her strength.

She moved down the dark slave path. Disoriented by the darkness but driven on by the voice that called her name in whispers and sighs. She moved as if in a dream; she felt as if she were moving through water.

The path had become narrower than she remembered, the way twisting and labyrinthine but the smell of the house was familiar, greeting her like an old lover: candle smoke and perfume. And then a slip of light; the light was like a blade piercing her sensitive eyes; she squinted and struggled to regain her senses.

She moved toward it, using the icy bricks to guide her. She pushed on the slave door and it moved without a sound into a hall that she half-remembered.

Her vision bleached now with daylight that spilled through the stained glass window panes casting colours across her face. Silhouetted against the light was the unmistakable form of the Maegester. His scent, his presence seemed to possess her completely and her lips fell open but she could not form words. Caught between her pact with his wife and the desire to be free…

She could see his white blonde hair shining and lovely, it had been washed recently with scented soap and his hands, white and elegant, clasped behind his back. His clothes fit his lean body, leaving the suggestion of muscled arms and strong thighs. He seemed to glow with heavenly light…an angel…

She found herself reaching out, her hand outstretched almost able to touch his shoulder, she wanted to reveal herself to him.

The instant she would have made contact, a hand closed around her mouth and she was dragged back into the dark cold corridor, her arms flailed out and she knocked a vase from a nearby plinth. The plinth rocked and vase fell hitting the ground with a thundering crack.

Lucerne spun round and found nothing of note but the solid oak door concealing the slave path and shards of a vase on the floor. His pale brows drew together there hadn't even been a flutter of wind. A slave appeared to clear the mess away and he moved on to his business.

The grey eyed girl had got hold of Sin. The girl was shaking her head violently in reprimand for she had no tongue to form her angry words. She helped Sin to her grey-walled prison, half carrying her as if she were an invalid.

Sin lay on the bed, grateful of the reprieve, her body trembled with her exertions.

The grey eyed girl's small hands flew to touch Sin's swollen stomach.

"I'm sorry, sister." Sin said, her voice shook.

The girl seemed pacified, though her eyes remained slate-hard and angry. It was Anata's voice that came to her again, the echoing whisper. "Rest, daughter, rest." _Yes._ Sin thought. _I must rest, _and as she dreamed of brooking waves and the distant herald of thunder, blood soaked to the white sheet between her legs.

Pain lanced through her and she couldn't help but scream. A horrible banshee wail that flew down the corridors into the house.

* * *

Lucerne lifted his head as the silver sharp sound of the ghostly scream ebbed away. "What was that?"

The Lords and Ladies raised their heads toward him, pausing for a moment in their idle game of cards and then turned their faces away serenely. Only Pearl's features visibly paled, her gaze caught his in a moment of sparkling clarity. "Perhaps a slave." She said, brows drawn together in an earnest expression, her voice quavered ever so slightly.

Lucerne's body showed every sign of moving out of his seat but Pearl grasped his arm. "Let some other person see what it is. Stay with me. With us." She put a hand to the curve of her belly and he was compelled by her request. She pushed the thought clumsily into his mind, the intrusive little ribbon of Power looped into a dark little knot and he forced himself to relax in his seat.

He lay his chin upon his fist, staring thoughtfully into the distance, the phantom of the anguished scream buzzing in his ears causing the small hairs on the back of his neck stand to attention.

The gaming party carried on with their game blithely, not caring that Pearl had relinquished her hand and that Lucerne was no longer playing his. "Is there something wrong?" Pearl asked forcing her lips into a pleasant mien that did not match the cunning of her eyes.

"I think perhaps I'm being haunted, my dove." He said with a humourless smile.

"Haunted?"

He reached for his cup, his thoughts on the vase that had fallen earlier that evening, without warning and without cause. As if something were reaching for him but did not have the density to touch him.

Pearl watched the thoughts tick behind Lucerne's eyes that had become as dark and stormy as a squall. She raised her knuckles to her forehead. "I feel a little…faint." Lucerne emerged from his thoughts to look at her. "I wish to retire to my room."

"Fetch the medic." He said automatically, his thoughts on the safety of the baby.

"No." Pearl said sharply and lay her hands again upon his arm. "No need to fuss. I have pushed myself a little too much today with games."

"Allow me to escort you then." Lucerne said.

"No." Pearl said, rising to her feet with difficulty. "Please stay. Play. I will be okay."

The gathered offered bows, nods and mutters of "good evening" as the Lady of Elysion departed.

He watched as Pearl walked away, her step slow but her head held high as she strived for a graceful exit, her white silk gown whispered across the floor. Lucerne's eyes flicked to Domitian who had already laid down his cup, and wiped his wine- stained lips with the back of his hand.

"See to it that she is comfortable and have Alister attend her."

He stood and offered Lucerne a curt bow before he followed Pearl's path, all fluid and dark predatory grace.

Lucerne waited only moments before getting to his feet; casting an eye over the Lords and Ladies who, knowing his mood, absorbed themselves in their cards. They paid him no mind as he left the hall in silence.

* * *

Sin was curled into a tight foetal ball as if she could coil her flesh around the pain, like petals tight around a stamen. She was oblivious to the world beyond the seething umber throb at the centre of her being.

The medic had slid into the room, quiet and efficient. He tried to unfold her limbs, to find the fabric of her dress soaked through with blood. He was trying to find the source of the bleeding, though it was obvious that the bright blossom expanded from the spot between her legs.

"Steady." Alister said through clenched teeth. "Steady, girl, the child isn't coming yet."

But he couldn't see that she was desperately trying to keep the child inside her body, using thighs and elbows to clamp it in place.

"Let me see." Alister said trying to force her limbs straight. "Hold still."

He grasped her shoulders, fingers curling into bone and clammy flesh, trying to hold her in place. Her head reared back and he could see for the first time her eyes, they were not the sombre brown of a mortal but wide with cumulonimbus drifting through sparkling depths of ocean blue.

He exhaled an astonished breath. "Hecate."

He stumbled back suddenly as if a great hand had flung him away from her body. Icy white shock possessed him, and he watched with horror as the slave's body was pulled taught, limbs stretched and clicked, the sour note of a scream erupted from her lips and dispelled in a ragged breath and then she fell back on the bed, the hand of magic relinquishing its grasp on her.

Moments of silence passed and then cautiously he rose to his feet.

Pearl burst into the room, her eyes bright with worry, they moved across the room desperately seeking consolation. "Does the child live?" She asked, near-breathless with panic

"She is sleeping." Alister said, his voice soft with wonder. His gaze shifting from the Lady of Elysion to the slave laying unconscious in the cot.

"Does it live?" Pearl persisted.

Alister nodded and flinched when Pearl stepped toward him. She took hold of his shoulders, shaking him lightly. "What is wrong with you?"

"She is touched by the gods." He murmured.

"What are you talking about?" Pearl's frustration grew. "Speak sense." She demanded with another shake of his shoulders.

"She…"

Pearl made a disgusted noise low in her throat; she turned to look at the slave for the first time since she entered the room and saw her mired in blood. "Is the time close?" She asked softly.

"Another week maybe two." Alister said, his voice distant and distracted.

Pearl touched her swollen stomach the mirror of the slave, yet her womb was void of life. "I look fit to burst, I'm sure my husband thinks so also."

Alister was lured from his thoughts by her words, he turned visibly pale. "The Maegester does not suspect a thing, does he?"

Pearl shook her head from side to side, no. She had played her part well and had spent much of her time in seclusion, avoiding the scrutiny of Lords and Ladies but revealing enough of her belly to convince them of the lie. She took a step toward the slave, one hand reaching for her stomach. She laid a hand on the swell; she felt movement against her palm and pulled her hand back suddenly uncertain.

"Go back to your chambers." Alister advised. "I will follow in a while. The Maegester will expect it and he will no doubt come to check on you also."

Pearl's curiosity withdrew replaced by a cold fury. "Bind it's tongue if you must." She hissed and glared down at the slave. "It near stirred the whole house."

"Of course, Maistresse." Though he had no intention of doing so, still cautious of drawing so near so soon. He paced back and forth, his eye half on the slave whilst Pearl slipped out of the room.

He had a surgical knife in his hand and he searched his medical bag for an empty vial, he wanted her blood, there would be no harm in taking a sample now. He knelt by Sin's body, approaching her his steps slow, his manner gentle, he put the blade against her arm it slid into the skin smoothly.

Blood welled from between the slits of meat and he put the lip of vial to the wound to catch as much blood as he was able.

A soft gasp escaped her but she made no other protest and the power that had forced him off her didn't return.

He staunched the blood with a cloth and pocked the vial and cloth before hurrying to Pearl's room.

* * *

Lucerne walked slowly through the halls, his eyes distant, his thoughts turned inward. He was a phantom haunting his own home, wall sconces casting an eerie orange glow over his pale features. He was drifting toward Pearl's room.

He was dimly aware of the slaves moving in their clumsy shuffling way, he saw the shadow of one creep across a slave path a moment before the girl appear holding a jar of fresh blood; it wasn't unusual he supposed. He let her pass.

He came to Pearl's door, he could feel her presence inside. He paced in front of the door listening to the dulcet tone of her voice and the low rumble of the medic's voice.

He saw the cloth on the floor, pale linen stained with bright red blood, he plucked it up from the floor running the cloth through his fingers; he put the stained cloth to his nostrils and sniffed delicately. He shivered, a sliver of recognition threaded through his consciousness.

He strode toward Pearl's door opening it with more force than necessary. He found Alister's reedy frame leaning over her prone form, his hand lingering on the curve of her belly. The medic withdrew tucking his medical bag under his arm. "Plenty of rest, Maegester, it's not long now." Alister said, brushing past him.

"How is the heir of Elysion?" He asked.

"The gods themselves have their eye on that one." The medic replied with a wry expression.

Lucerne's lips pursed. "You think so?"

Alister's eyes became a darker shade of grey. "What do you wish of me Maegester?" Alister had committed dark deeds for Lucerne in the past but he had sworn never to speak of them though they lived in the crease of his mouth.

"I only wish for a healthy child." Lucerne said and as an afterthought. "And wife."

"I'm sure you will have that." Alister murmured.

"How fares my wife?" Though Pearl only lay in the bed, wide awake and watching Lucerne as prey may watch a predator who stalked too close.

"She is bearing the child well."

"I think she does not eat as she must." Lucerne said his gaze locking with the medic; he extended his mental tendrils tasting the shade of emotion on the witch but found him fiercely closed.

"I say she eats well, you simply do not see her every moment of the day, Maegester."

Lucerne's lip quirked. "Perhaps."

"Is that all, Maegester?"

"Yes." Lucerne said nodding and he turned toward the door, glad to make his escape but before his hand could reach for the door. "Oh, Alister." Lucerne held out the blood stained cloth. "Did you drop this?"

Alister stared, his eyes showing more whites than was natural. "Yes. Yes I did. Thank you, Maegester."

"Nosebleed was it?" Lucerne asked lightly the edge of suspicion coloured his voice.

Alister laughed and mumbled something before scuttling away, closing the door softly behind him. Lucerne turned to look at his wife for the first time since entering the room. She shifted her position several times, uncomfortable beneath his scrutiny.

"Is he caring for you?" Lucerne asked.

"Has he not done so for this House for many years?" Pearl countered her tone tense.

"Yes." Lucerne responded his thoughts turning inward as a tumult of memory and secrets unspoken raged inside his head.

"How did he come to Elysion?" Pearl asked her tone light and conversational purposefully steering his attention away from her wellbeing.

"He applied for the position through the Courts." As did you, he wanted to remind her but didn't.

"Oh." She said. Why would anyone consent to themselves being bound as a slave? She thought and was struck with a wave of melancholy for wasn't that what she had done to herself. Bound herself to Lucerne, to serve as his brood mare and party piece.

"He has proven himself loyal and a good healer. He tended my own father."

Her eyes narrowed to slender blue slits, her teeth reaching out to caress the bottom of his lips, her words soft but vicious. "Didn't your father die?"

Lucerne's eyes flashed. "Yes. He did." He approached her swiftly to lean over her and she flinched as his face loomed large and threatening over her own. He lay his lips against her cheek in a tender little kiss.

"Get some rest." Lucerne said. "Not long now, eh?"

Pearl smiled tremulously and was relieved when he had shut the door behind him.

* * *

First Drafted 12/05/2012

Miss S


	24. Twenty Four First Draft 22 07 12

Twenty-Four

* * *

Verain stared up at the marble cheek of the enigmatic statue, in one hand he twirled a petite envelope that housed a neat square card which had been sealed with golden wax that now gleamed in the light.

"It is the Apennine wolf." Lux said at his shoulder and Verain startled. "The seal of the Caravella capomuta."

Verain turned the card over once again in his fingers and read the invitation aloud, as he spoke the subtle scent of Francesca's sweet fragrant perfume wafted toward his nostrils and when he opened his eyes again they glowed like circles of gold.

"You have been too long in the company of vampires."

It had been months since he had seen Francesca, or any other wolf for that matter, and he was plagued with the irresistible memory of her nude, dark eyes glistening, lips parted and chest rising and falling with the intensity of her breath. He knew she had licked and pressed the envelope closed.

"Perhaps it is time to seek the company of 'wolves." Lux said and patted his shoulder.

Verain gazed up at the effigy of the woman with the bowed head and lamented; his memories of Sin would be as immortal as stone but Francesca was flesh and living breath. It was Lux's words that prompted him to ascend the white steps to the large gilded doors of the Caravella's home.

Cypress tree formed a narrow lane between the front gate and the house, oil lamp were posed at intervals offering an orangey and romantic glow in the twilight. Beyond the cypress trees a vast wilderness spread out before him, and he itched within his human skin with the desire to explore.

The door opened without him having to knock and a petite figure appeared; eyes like jewel embers in the black. "You may enter." There was the merest hint of a growl in the old woman's voice. "We have been expecting you."

The hairs on the back of his neck raised and his limbs were liquid, ready for anything that assailed him in the dark doorway.

The dark figure belonged to a woman of indeterminate years, old and yet her hair was dark, her eyes bright and step full of speed and purpose. He had the scent of her in his nostrils, beneath layers of lavender and patchouli was the musty scent of fur.

"May I know your name, maistresse?" He asked of the woman whose eyes were quick to capture his.

"I am Nicolina." She said.

He was lead through a network of darkened corridors that were more complex and disorienting than Beatrice's villa. They neared a door whose seams pulsed with light, he could feel the warmth of many presences beyond the doors and the scent of candle wax and wolves brought the hair on his neck to stand.

"The capomuta is within." Nicolina said stalling by the door.

"Caravella?" He asked and she nodded, her dark hair sliding across one sparkling eye.

"He is Re Lupo." She smiled showing large white teeth, noticeably sharp and savage. "He brought us in from the wild to live in these stone walls."

He shuddered at her words that became ragged as her tongue struggled to form words behind her teeth.

She pushed on the door and they parted under her withered hands, his eyes blinded with the sudden wash of light. Nicolina gestured for him to enter, knowing he could not afford to hesitate he stepped inside and was surrounded by the predatory eyes of wolves.

The wolves in Caravella's stone walls were lounging elegantly, some in their human guise and others as wolves. At the farthest end of the room, Benito Caravella sat upon a throne in a regal pose; his profile cast a distinctive shadow across the wall.

Even from a distance Verain could see the grey wove into his jet hair and eyes that were luminous and dangerous with his beast. "Welcome." His voice thundered about the hall and it was anything but a welcome sound.

To Caravella's left a woman stood, her iron-grey hair adorned her head like a crown and she wore large jewels set in yellow gold. Her eyes were familiar in their benevolence and met his without the air of disdain or suspicion that her husband had.

To Caravella's right the young wolf Matteo stood glaring steadily.

Verain turned his head from one side and to the other, drinking in the sight of the Caravella pack, the women of the pack were beautiful, flawless olive skin and intense dark eyes marked them. Suspicion was there, keen and deadly in their fierce eyes, jagged teeth were bared and beneath it all the curious tendrils of desire; he was near overcome with the scent of them, for they had a smell that was unlike his kin.

Amidst them Verain stood apart, his pale skin gleamed like moonlight and eyes burned as rich as treasures. He was Sirius, the brightest star in the night's sky, all others paling comparison. Someone was playing classical guitar and it added to the dreamy ambiance of the candle light.

There were touches of Elysion decadence and it did not entirely displease Verain.

The men were clothed in smart suits and the women evening gowns, some were only half clothed but the women bore their riches, necklaces, bracelets, anklets and rings gleamed in the effulgence, for the wolves of Pozallo were proud and none more than those in the pack of the Re Lupo Benito Caravella.

His eyes raised as Francesca entered the room, their eyes met for a brief moment and her cheeks coloured at the sight of him. Unlike the others she walked bare foot across the floor to stand at the foot of her father's throne. She was wild and defiant parading none of her wealth, her hair unbound and face unpainted. He was pleased to see her and would have said as much save for the pack master's narrowed gaze.

"Maegester." Verain gave a formal bow.

"Do you mock me?" Carvella's voice was sharp and echoed about the hall.

"No." He thought he was being proper. Apparently not. He straightened his back and kept his eyes level with the pack master.

Caravella's lips pursed. "No 'wolf comes to my territory without my permission; but as you are a guest of the Lady Beatrice we will forgive you this indiscretion."

"I do not mean to offend." Verain said flatly. "Had I known I would have sought your permission long ago, Maegester."

"What is this Maegester?"

"It is what we call our superiors." Verain explained. "Where I come from."

"And what other customs do you hold?"

His throat filled with emotion and he thought he might choke. "I can hardly say." He said softly.

"Then perhaps you will come to share in our customs." Caravella said and raised his hand. Verain was suddenly surrounded by men and women of the pack, they thrust their faces close to sniff and touch him, some even lay small kisses whilst others licked his exposed skin.

They came to know his scent and taste in time and when the crowds dispersed a few women remained: one girl knelt to relieve him of his shoes; he allowed it though it baffled him, another girl removed his jacket. The women were concentrating on their task, their expressions were absorbed almost grim and none of them opened their mouths to speak to him. Only the sound of their jewels filled the silence between them.

Francesca came toward him last and her hands reached forward to unbuckled his belt, she alone met his gaze and a dark knowledge moved in the depths of her eyes, so much unspoken and blooming between them. She pulled his belt roughly from his waist and the promise of a tomorrow was made in the space between their eyes and the sudden hot puff of breath.

She was angry with him, that much was evident, she was also embarrassed but her desire was fierce and he felt colour rise in his cheeks as he became aware of the eyes all around that watched.

He removed his own trousers and underwear not the least bit embarrassed at his own nudity for it was the natural state of his kind who chafed in the binding clothes of their maegesters.

It was then he noted that Matteo was undressing also, attended by more of the beautiful olive women, his breath seethed angrily from between his clenched teeth as he observed Francesca attend his rival.

"This is an exhibition." Caravella reminded them though Verain had not known he had been called to fight. "The first to draw blood will be considered the greater wolf."

Verain lifted his chin. "I am no wolf." He said with all the disdain a Hound could muster.

A growl vibrated passed Matteo's lips, the only signifier before he transformed in a series of clicks, grunts and pops; he fell forward on his paws. Grey threaded the brown of his fur, Apennine wolves Lux had called them, he was small and stocky, eyes bright and lip curled above his sharp teeth.

Verain breathed in the scent of Matteo's wolf before he transformed, smooth and near-silent into his other form; he was larger than Matteo, limbs well-muscled and lithe, made for speed. The candlelight made his fur gleam silver and breath shivered passed the lips of the spectating wolves.

They both moved forward, one deliberate step at a time and then began to circle one another. Matteo was wary of the size of him assessing his movement for weakness; absorbed in this Verain threatened to launch and this goaded Matteo into launching himself with claws poised at Verain's throat.

A polite series of claps rose from the gathered.

Verain threw him off easily and didn't give him a moment to recover, he set upon the small wolf pinning his shoulders against the stone and teeth aiming for his throat.

The last fight he had had was with his uncle, and memories of Sorken's life ebbing away between his teeth. The sickening memory made him hesitate and he tried to extract himself.

Matteo took the opening and tackled Verain's large body to the ground.

The crowd applauded their champion's advantage.

With a growl Matteo tried to take hold of the scruff of Verain's neck but Verain was agile and evaded the snapping jaw, he threw Matteo off and growled to warn him to put a stop to it. Matteo paid him no heed and swiped a paw which Verain narrowly avoided. A frustrated growl rose from his opponent's lips and Verain dodged more of Matteo's vicious scratches.

When Matteo had exhausted himself Verain launched again and pinned him just as easily as the first time. He clamp his teeth on the back of Matteo's neck and Matteo tried in vain to shake him off but to no avail, Verain's jaws were like a vice and his grip tightening until blood spilt.

His rough tongue emerged to lick the fluid away and silence filled the hall.

Verain released him though no one had called the exhibition to an end; he moved away warily from the felled wolf and made a fluid change into his human form, his mouth was stained with blood. His mind was swimming with the coppery taste of blood, his vision swimming he hardly heard the growl that crawled from Matteo's lips and the stocky Italian wolf launched into the air and landed on his back pushing him to the ground.

"Enough." Caravella roared and raised a hand high in the aie and Matteo instantly changed in a painful series of clicks and pops back to his human self. His body shivered with the immediacy of the change, the change that had been forced upon him by the packmaster. "You've dishonour us, Matteo."

Verain's eyes met Francesca's and saw her lips parted, her chest heaving with short sharp breaths and ten his eyes slipped to Caravella whose expression was wrath. He got to his feet warily.

"An impressive display." Caravella said.

"An impressive wolf." Francesca said.

The gathered wolves applauded and bent their heads together in hushed whispers; no one had turned Matteo over so easily nor so quickly.

"I am not a wolf." Verain said as he had before. "I am a Hound."

* * *

He was escorted back to the villa riding in a sleek silver car watching the dark scenery roll by with a sense of homesickness. A servant drove and didn't speak to him the entire journey, nor did he have time to thank the man as he slipped out of the car to stand on the edge of the courtyard and the driver climbed back into the car and drove away.

He stood alone, staring up at the looming shadow cast by the villa. Darkness set upon darkness in a strange unwelcome land.

He hated to confess it but he ached from the tussle with Matteo, the pack wolves were strong but not well trained; whilst in Elysion he had run, hunted and was challenged and fought almost daily to hone his physique and encourage discipline and then there was the sands…

Here he languished with little to do but put on displays for vampires and lesser wolves, he shuddered and turned his back on the villa, looking instead to the twilit grounds, swathed in silver moon glow and more darkness.

A figure formed in the night, slender and small and approaching him in steady strides. He waited until the silhouette materialised into Francesca and she was walking bare foot toward him, her chest heaving, having run from her own house.

"What are you doing here?" He asked though he didn't need to know, not from the look she had given when she stood at the foot of her father's throne, the same look that gleamed in her eye now speaking of heat and longing…

"Why did you come?" Francesca asked throatily.

"I had little choice." He said spreading his hands.

She reached for his hand, her fingers were hot to the touch and there was none of the strange magic startling his arm but he couldn't deny the heat between them or the way his body reacted. "Maybe your gods brought you to me."

His lips fell open in a sigh. Maybe…

"I've not met anyone like you, Verain." She said an instant before their lips met.

He succumbed to the lust, the wonder of the she-wolf, and enfolded her in his arms, her body was warm and her pulse raced against him.

The night was intoxicating, calling them out across the field; she pulled him toward the tangle of forest to lie on the earth. Her hair spread around her like an ocean of ebony curls, her eyes gleamed, reflecting moon light from above. "Make love to me, Verain." She said huskily.

His hands moved reverently over her supple skin, removing her dress to find she wore nothing underneath, just more glorious olive toned skin that was hot to the touch.

She reached out to touch his face, sliding fingertips across his bottom lip he captured it between his teeth and she hissed in pleasure.

He made love to her slowly until her cheeks flooded with tears of pleasure and frustration and she was beautiful in her distress, her hands clawing at the earth, her back arching and hips rising to meet his. Her orgasm made her eyes bright and teeth sharp, she clawed at his back and blood ran slick and warm.

When it was done he lay across her chest whilst she played idly with a lock of his hair, she bit her lip, she was tense, she had so many questions but was frightened to break the quiet.

"I left her behind to face her fate alone." He said after a long contemplative silence.

"Was she your lover?" She felt a tinge of envy but her voice was light.

"No." He replied honestly but she heard the sad undertone.

"Perhaps it's time to forget about the past." She whispered and forced him to look into her face. "And look to the future."

His eyes were eerily bright in the dark. "Can it ever be so simple?"

"You will never go back to Elysion." She said with an awkward one shouldered shrug.

A shudder passed through him, her words were like knells of a great bell vibrating in the pit of his stomach. "I want to forget." He said; his eyes closed as he squeezed the words out like bullets; he felt as if his lips had shaped an irrevocable curse and the dim flicker of awareness of Sin cooled inside his chest to all but an ember.

Francesca laid her lips on his, and drew him into her arms, she would make him forget and he relinquished himself to her desires.

* * *

Miss S 22/07/2012


	25. Twenty Five First Draft 30 09 2012

Twenty-Five

* * *

"Do you feel it?" Sin asked her voice distant and detached even to her own ears. "The heart beating beneath my feet?"

The mute slave, her only companion, lifted her face and her pale brows came together as she frowned.

Sin lifted her head and sniffed the air, not the usual pungent mix of her own waste but the sweet scent of roses; a shuddering breath rendered passed her lips and her eyes rolled into the back of her head and she collapsed across her pallet bed.

A mangled cry erupted from the nameless slave who rushed out to summon help; her footsteps whispered across the stone and the door creaked but did not shut.

Sin waded out of the dizzy spell and forced herself to stand; her legs trembled and the pain seemed to intensify with each passing moment. The whisper of the goddess breezed through Sin's mind in undecipherable soothing sibilance, her mouth was stuffed with the perfume of flowers.

Sin followed the trail outside of her prison, slow step by slow step progressing through the cool darkness with fingertips on the walls as she had before, her other hand pressed to the girth of her stomach as if she could hold the baby inside herself.

Water was slick between her legs, and she left a trail of foot prints as she went heading slowly, so slowly toward the light.

* * *

Linnea leant on the blue tinted window pane overlooking the rose garden, the flowers were in full bloom appearing like a cloud of white petals and their fragrance rose from even this great distance to sweeten the air. She watched Pearl who was posed thoughtfully amidst the flora, a petite vision in the golden glow of the midday sun and she could not deny the small thread of envy, for Linnea too wished to be a wife and mother.

She barely noticed Lucerne arrive quietly at her shoulder. "Do you think she blossoms with it?" He asked, his cool eyes moving over Pearl.

Linnea's brow arched. "She seems different. Quiet."

"A blessing." Lucerne murmured his eyes slipping to the garden itself, inspecting the work of the garden slaves, trying to eke out an imperfection so he might have an excuse to punish them.

"A quiet woman is a dangerous woman." Linnea murmured. "Who knows what she is scheming?"

Lucerne turned to look at his sister full in the face. "She has no great mind to scheme."

"She is a woman." Linnea said with a small knowing smile. "If she is not occupying her mind with something or other inevitably she will turn to scheming."

"And what has she to scheme about?" Lucerne challenged, his own pale brows arching.

Linnea shrugged delicately in response and returned her gaze to the window. Since he had thrown his slave to the Hounds, he had withdrawn, often melancholy and often given over to sudden and cruel rages. He closeted himself in the chapel of Anta; for what he prayed, Linnea could only guess.

"And you? What are you scheming, sister?" He asked and stepped close enough that his body pressed against the expanse of her skirt.

She stiffened and turned to meet her brother's eye. "Nothing."

"Then you are content?"

She shrugged again.

Lucerne considered his sister for a moment. "When my son is born I will think upon finding you a husband."

She looked at him sharply, the dim flicker of hope ignited in her gaze. "Shall you appeal to the Court match maker?"

Anger flashed through his murky blue gaze. "I and only I will have a say on who may wed you."

Linnea turned her face away and back to Pearl who had not moved an inch, frozen like a marble statue adorned in silk. "Then let us pray for a healthy son." She murmured but Lucerne was already striding away.

She released a shaky breath, for Lucerne was as dangerous as a serpent slipping sinuously amidst the tall grass, poised to strike. Her eyes drifted once more to her sister-in-law and wondered at how she too had become withdrawn, rarely speaking, her attention turned ever inward as she forced a smile that sat watery about her lips.

"Is there aught you need, maistresse?" A steward asked.

Even has her lips parted to send him away she saw the slave run into the garden and collapse in front of her Pearl, small hands twisting in her gown, her mouth working in paroxysms of panic.

Pearl's head turned slowly, a bewildered expression on her face that soon turned to horror, a pale hand fluttered toward her face and she fainted, the slave buffering her fall but just barely.

"Fetch the medic." Linnea said to the steward and picked up the hem of her skirt to run.

* * *

Sin pushed open the door with difficulty for it was heavy, the weak muscles of her arms corded and she tripped into the daylight.

The light was blinding, it seared her retinas and bringing a terrible cry from her lips. She fell to her hands and knees, greedily sucking in mouthfuls of air. Pain spread through her like nothing she had ever felt. "It's coming." She said between pain wrought gasps.

She managed to raise her head and silhouettes stood against the sun and for a moment she thought she saw…it couldn't be…Verain, his golden gaze all exquisite sympathy and her heart seized in fear.

She was aware of icy hands grasping her arms before she fell unconscious.

* * *

"How did she get out?" Pearl hissed as she glared at the mute slave who knelt at the foot of her gilded seat. Pearl's seat was beside the bed which was where Sin lay obscured by swathes of muslin and silk. The mute girl had a purple mark on her cheek where Pearl had struck her hard.

"It was lucky I found her." Alister murmured.

"Where did you think you would go?" Pearl asked.

Sin gurgled incomprehensibly.

"Quiet now." Alister said. "There's work to do."

Alister had brought her down the slave paths, smuggling her into Pearl's room where he had barred the door and told the anxiously gathering Lords and Ladies that the Lady of Elysion was ready to give birth to the Heir of Elysion.

Pearl sat with her finger curled around the arm rests, her knuckles white with tension as she watched Alister leant over the slave girl who was soaked with feverish sweat. Beads of sweat formed on her own brow to think of her Peers without expecting so much of her.

What if the child would die, for it was notoriously difficult for a child of two kinds to survive infancy.

Pearl watched as Alister spread the slave's legs and administered a cool compress to her brow. The slave looked weak, with bruised eyes and a trembling mouth given over to the trauma of child birth.

* * *

Linnea looked at her brother, her expression drawn and anxious. She offered her hand to him. "We will pray for the birth of a strong child, brother."

He looked down at their hands connected together. When they were children things were simple, when he had longed for nothing more than this: just he and Linnea hand in hand. How things had changed? Now he harboured many secrets, and now there were so many things to answer for.

Now that he had a son he could rest by night. But…but the icy fingers of doubt and dread slowly extended toward his heart. "I must get some air." He said and left the ante room.

As he paced his mind drifted toward Sin, had she not also carried his child? A child that had become fodder for Hounds; he shuddered to think of how the gods might punish him. He had named her Anata and he had fed her to the beasts of Elysion.

He went to one of the altars of Anata in the private courtyard; the vestibule was white marble floor, Grecian pillars and steps descending to small courtyard where a variety of flora and fauna were tenderly cared for. The narcisse flowers were in blossom and the sweet scent was a relief from the strange fetid air of the House that was always vaguely sour with the tang of blood.

In the tall reeds and surrounded by jasmine flowers a small statue in marble stood a miniature of Anata. This place he had built for Verain's mother when he had favoured her above all others.

Lucerne went to his knees amongst the fauna, bowed his head and began to pray.

* * *

Sin could hear the beating of her own heart, beckoning her from the bright whiteness that stole her from her consciousness. The rhythm grew louder beckoning her to move, leading her through the crystal bright tunnel. The beat was the sound of the ocean against the shore.

"Hello?" She called out to the empty shore, the inexhaustible expanse of the sea. Where was the old mother, where was Anata? She walked down the beach, a never ending stretch of shore and she didn't seem to tire.

In fruitless pursuit on the ribbon of gold she turned instead toward the forest, a verdant tunnel that consumed her and when she glanced back there was no more beach just the green and dark of a wild forest. She wrapped arms around herself, it offered little comfort.

From the corner of her eye she saw the shadows slither against the darkness, eyes flashed, teeth flashed. The scent of fur stuffed her nostrils and she remembered the scent well, the stench of the Hounds in the Den.

She saw another shadow stretch out in the dark, this one larger and sturdier than any other she had seen. It was not moving save for the rise and fall of breath, she drew close to it, curiosity outstripping her fear. It was a sleeping wolf, no not a wolf, a Hound.

She stretched out her hand and put it to the muzzle and the wolf woke, golden eyes snapping awake; hot breath alighting goose bumps on her arms. She jumped back as the wolf lunged forward and she was helpless and trapped beneath his weight. Its hot breath puffed on her face making her eyes water.

Those eyes. Such eyes. She knew them well. Large gold circles gleaming with unnatural light.

Her fear began to slip away and she pushed fingertips into the fur of its shoulder, of its cheek and it allowed her to pet it until it withdrew from her and allowed her to sit up.

It flashed its sharp teeth and a growl vibrated past its lips and she gathered her limbs and ran. She turned toward the dark tangle of forest but a warm human hand grasped her wrist holding her from her escape. She turned slowly and was only mildly surprised to see Verain in human form. "You live." He said.

"Let me go." She begged.

He enfolded in his arms, she had only ever known the sensation once before. The length of her body pressed tightly against his feeling all the lithe muscles and hardness. "You live." He repeated.

He released her and she moved away, staring wide eyed with disbelief that her mind could conjure such a solid phantom. "Why are you here?" She asked and then looked about as if the goddess might reveal herself and the purpose of such a dream.

"This is my dream." He said.

She shook her head. "You shouldn't be here."

Tears, hot and sudden, filled her eyes and panic rushed in like a wave and the pain of the real world intruded on her senses.

"Sin-" He reached for her but she held up a hand to ward him away.

"Don't come back to Elysion." She said savagely. She didn't want him to know what had become of her.

He grasped her elbows trying to draw her close, his face contorted with anger as he lowered his head to hers, his mouth hovering above hers and at the instant they would touch her, her lips parted on a scream and the fullness of pain returned to her and snatched her from the dream and into Elysion.

She fell back on the sweat slicked, blood stained sheets, her blurred vision capturing the sight of a squalling child, her child, being taken away in the medic's arms.

She raised a hand, heavy and weak and it took too much strength to even raise it at all. She closed her eyes to hear the small sweet cry of the child and then she resisted it no more and slipped into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

Miss S

30/09/2012


	26. Twenty Six 09 11 12 first draft

Twenty-Six

* * *

Francesca woke with a start, the scent of ocean surf, forests and the subtle perfume of a mortal woman swamped her senses. Verain thrashed in the bed beside her, gripped by a fevered dream, she reached over to him, his skin hot and wet beneath her palm. "Wake up." She murmured.

He resisted her, his breath grew urgent and she could feel his heart thundering. "Wake up, Verain. You're having a nightmare."

Verain's eyes snapped open, they were eerily lit as keen as the light of the sun and she pulled back startled and uncertain at the sight of his sharp teeth and heaving breath. He turned to look at her; his body trembled from the exhilaration of his dream. "I have wronged you." The words erupted gruffly from his lips.

"What are you talking about?" She drew her limbs inward like an anemone shying away from danger; she was suddenly afraid of his bright eyes, the haunted expression on his face; he was so unlike the wolves she had known.

"It's in my blood and binds my soul." He whispered and then more in a language she did not recognise.

"What are you talking about?" She asked again gently. "Come back to me." She reached out to touch him, tentative at first and then he moved into the circle of her arms, smelling of the briny ocean and perfume. She was shaken to see the magnificent wolf relinquished to a child; the last shudders of his nightmare rocked his body.

He soon fell into a dreamless sleep and she lay him down on the soft pillows and took the opportunity to slip out of the room. Doubts whispered about her mind of Verain and the mysterious isle of Elysion; its hold on him was deep and yet she wanted him more than she had ever wanted anything: it had become a strange obsession.

She left the villa, avoiding the servants who flittered about attending to their morning duties, in pursuit of the wild planes of Lady Beatrice's grounds itching to burst out of her skin and run as a wolf with Verain's sweat still on her skin.

She removed her night dress as soon as she stepped on the grassy plane and shifted, her vein sung with blessed relief. Nature embraced her, sight, scent and sound, welcoming her to its bosom. Here all petty concerns melted away as he flesh gave way to fur and the rhythm of her paws on the earth matched the beat of her heart.

In this skin life gave way to its simple parts and better than to run alone was to run with a pack, their howls climbing into the twilit night in beastly chorus.

The scent of the pack marked every green path and tree; she almost did not sense Matteo before she saw his silhouette between two cedar trees. He was nude, his figure harsh against the midday sun, he wore a cold expression that made her halt, remaining low to the ground.

"Where is your prince now?" Matteo asked bearing his teeth.

Francesca was thoroughly provoked; she shifted raising her large eyes now liquid with unshed tears. "Fuck you." She articulated with a voice that was barely human.

"It's not a secret now. Your father wants nothing more to do with you." Matteo said, his eyes narrowing cruelly despite his swollen eye.

"That's a lie." She whispered.

Matteo shook his head no. "You are _sporco_." He said, at first vengeful and then solemn. "You are no longer under the protection of the pack."

Cold shock ran through her, surely such a thing could not have been decided in her absence, she thought of her father's stern features and then his large tender eyes. Could she choose such a strange creature Verain over her own flesh and blood?

"I can help you, should you ever come out of his mad spell." Matteo said with all the sensitivity of a love-sick puppy.

"Leave here." Francesca said through her teeth. "And don't come back."

He glared at her, his chest heaving. "You're crazy, 'Cesca."

"That may be but it is my choice to make."

"You will regret it."

He turned his back on her and fell forward on all fours, shifting into a beast and disappearing into the dark.

* * *

Verain stood in the bay windows overlooking the planes and the forest beyond; he could sense Francesca moving restlessly through the green and Matteo slowly moving away. He felt Lux arrive and tilted his head toward him. "I just want to know one thing." The Hound said softly. "Can I ever go back?"

Lux's eyes glowed silver bright and he studied the angelic face, the features of his father more evident now than ever they had been save for those fierce golden eyes. "No." He said because it was the answer Verain wanted to hear.

Verain turned his face back to the dark vista, but he no longer saw what lay before him but the unfolding of precious memories he had held sacred in the chambers of his heart. After a moment his shoulders sagged with resignation.

"Is that all you wanted to know?" Lux asked.

"Yes."

* * *

The morning was bright and warm enhancing the general splendour of the villa; sun dappled on the statues and warmed the marble floors. Peace prevailed as the household slept on, paying no heed to the day until the rude thumping on the door roused the steward and the Lady Beatrice from her rest.

Benito Caravella stood at her threshold and she greeted him by a carefully schooled expression, a hint of amusement tinged her façade. Her eyes flicked to her steward and she motioned for him to leave, he gave a curt bow and left. Before she could organise a greeting he took a bold step toward her. "Is my daughter here?" His voice was underpinned by a growl.

She was taken aback by his breach of protocol but was determined not to reveal her displeasure. "What happened to your man there?" Beatrice asked glancing at the young man hovering inches away sporting a swollen eye.

An animal growl vibrated passed the young man's lips and he flashed his teeth at Beatrice who responded with a silver-eyed glare.

"Is she here?" Caravella asked abruptly.

Beatrice forced a pleasant smile but the warmth did not reach her eyes that were as hard as nickel. "Francesca is where she desires to be."

"I have forbidden it." Caravella snarled as he took a bold step closer to her. "Where is my daughter?"

Lux appeared as if drawn by the sudden threat of violence. "Pack master." His voice was filled with warning. Caravella's eyes flicked to Lux before sidling away from Beatrice.

"Your daughter lies above with her lover." Lux said coming to stand between he and Beatrice. "Verain proved himself the better beast. Do you deny it?" Caravella could not summon a response. "Then do not darken my Lady's door with this dispute."

"I thought you understood." Caravella glared at Beatrice his voice thick and inconsolable. "The cost of her virtue is-"

"She has made her choice." Beatrice said bristling at the word 'virtue' for her family had abandoned her when they had thought she had lost hers, the moment her husband had cast her aside she had been set adrift on the whims of others and there had been none to stand up for her.

She turned her back on Caravella and walked within the house.

"It would be best if you leave now." Lux said gently.

"She is ruined." He whispered. "Do you understand?"

Matteo stared at Caravello panic written clear on his features.

"Let us go home." Caravella said wearily, he placed a hand on Matteo's shoulder and shook his head. "She will come to her senses."

Lux closed the door behind the wolves with a pronounced thud.

"I did not mean to cause any trouble." Francesca's voice was soft and sweet with regret.

Lux turned to her to find her bed tumbled and smelling of sex. "Do you know what you're doing?" He asked gently. Her eyes captured his and she was speared by his gaze, it seemed to strip her to the bone and she began to shiver.

She had heard the anguish and anger in her father's voice; she could sense his feelings like an oppressive rain cloud. To think of all the pain she was causing, the disgrace her family would feel as she cleaved to Verain. To give it all up for his embrace alone, all he had to offer was passion and mystery and…

She lowered her face and she heard Lux's footsteps as he passed her by.

Francesca threw open the villa doors, bright light hurt her eyes and she squinted to find Matteo's silhouette leaning casually against a pillar. "You shouldn't have done that."

"I don't expect you to understand."

"You have always belonged to me." He said fiercely taking large steps toward her.

"I've never belonged to anyone." She retorted.

"Be careful, 'Cesca." Matteo said. "Of wanting things you can't have."

But she did have it, she was Verain's lover and yet there was an eerie ring to Matteo's voice, a knell to his words that hit the pit of her stomach like weights. He walked away then to leave her with those parting words and she fled back into the refuge of the villa seeking Verain's bed slipping under the sheets to allow him to warm the coldness that had settled inside her.

* * *

09/11/2012

Miss S


	27. Twenty Seven 11 11 12 First Draft

Twenty-Seven

The isle of Elysion was silent that morning; no slave was put to service, no Lord or Lady permitted to rise from their chambers save the Frist Daughter of Elysion who hovered in the dark recess of the ante-room watching Lucerne cradle his new baby in his arms. The baby's soft breath was the only sound between them and it was as sweet and reassuring as the ocean cresting upon the shore.

Lucerne stared down at the child in wonder, searching the baby's flesh for the stamp of his features: the child's eyes were not the blue of either his mother or father's but golden brown like dawn light upon the wet earth of Elysion. He sniffed the wisps of fine pale hair; the child smelt delicious, blood beating hot and close to the surface of his delicate skin.

"He is beautiful, brother." Linnea murmured coming to stand beside Lucerne, gently laying a hand upon his shoulder. "What will you call him?"

"Severin." He said; his voice husky with lack of use for he had been many hours cradling his son.

Linnea had not observed such tenderness in her brother since he had bedded the dark haired slave and was pleased for him. But the dark thread of envy was woven in her soul; for she longed for a child, a husband, a family of her own. "Where is your wife?" She asked.

"Recovering." He said thoroughly distracted.

"I must pay my respects-" Linnea said and began to move away.

"No. Do not disturb her." Lucerne said and lifted his eyes to hers. "The medic has said she must not be disturbed."

"Oh." Linnea was not concerned for she did not anticipate the triumphant gleam in the young vampire's eyes and the non-too subtle digs at her spinsterhood. "May I hold him?"

The baby gurgled, reaching chubby digits toward his aunt as if understanding her request and acquiescing enthusiastically. Lucerne's eyes had transformed to pure silver discs but he relinquished his hold on the child, easing him gently into Linnea arms and the weight of the child there was natural and provoked her maternal instinct. She fell in love with him instantly. "You are lovely." She told the baby who gave a toothless smile.

Severin seemed completely aware, there was dark intelligence in his gaze, he seemed to recognise her instantly and wrapped his fingers around her hand. She thought of what it would be like to hold her own child in her arms; the irresistible thought came to her of a pale blonde hair and eyes the grey of his father, intense and joyful at once. She sighed happily.

"It suits you." Lucerne said.

Linnea looked up at him a blush warming her cheeks.

Sin woke to silence.

She felt emptiness both within and without and forced her eyes open and invited reality to invade. Her mouth felt thick, her tongue swollen and she thirsted, her stomach growled as if announcing her hunger.

She was back in her small stone prison but it was stripped bare save her collapsed on the pallet bed.

Her limbs felt heavy, almost immovable and it took her time to rise; she placed her bare feet on the stone floor and shuddered as the ice climbed up her calves. She summoned strength to stand and once she had achieved this feat she took time to look down at herself, he belly was still large but void of the life it once held, there was no blood, nor gore miring her thighs, having been thoroughly cleansed of the birth.

She saw the sparkle of something at her throat and reached to caress the cool diamonds hanging there, the grey-eyed slave must have concealed it from the Maegesters only to return it to her now.

She gripped the stones hard enough to hurt and then she noted the ring. It had been placed on her left hand and there was no mistaking it for being any other than the Maistresse's own ring, two rubies set in a golden clasp. The token must have been a sign of the Maistresse's promise to her…the symbol of her freedom.

Her balance was uneven and she took an experimental step forward and there was a vague sore feeling between her legs that gave her pause. When she felt bold enough she began to walk, gingerly at first until she reached the door and found it move beneath her touch.

She paused, wondering if it were a rouse, some trick of the Maegesters, but there was no light and no sound in the slave trail and she forced herself to limp forward despite the pain and her weakness.

Memories returned to her, all at once vivid and vague and it made her shudder until she was gasping for a lungful of breath. She sobbed as the enormity of her choice hit her, having relinquished her child into the hands of demons, if that child were to live that is.

She used the wall to help guide her and still there was no sound nor light save her human parts that rattled with grief.

It was then through her watery gaze she saw the seam of sunlight and the gentle breath of Elysion hit the moisture on her cheeks. She sobbed anew with relief and pushed upon the door with all the strength she could muster.

The daylight blinded her vision and it took some time for her senses to recover. She walked like a ghost, pale, lifeless, meandering into the rose garden, her feet impressing upon the dewy grass, surrounded by the perfume of white roses. She fell to her knees exhausted.

A shadow fell across her. "Are we not lucky, slave; that the Maegesters above are occupied with celebration?" A Hound, she knew by the unnatural ripple of his muscles as if he had more than an ordinary man. "And here we are to conduct celebrations of our own."

His eyes were yellow and filled with malice, his gaze moved over her with a dark hunger. She stared up at him bleary eyed. "Come with me little meat." He held out a hand with fingernails sharp and clotted with dirt.

She got to her feet but rather than move toward him she began to drift away, her footing still uncertain and painful. He noted her uneven gait, the tremors of pain that possessed her.

She froze as another Hound appeared to block her path, his eyes were black and soulless, his mouth already full of sharp teeth as he opened his mouth to smile. She swallowed a scream and then, almost resigned to it, she did not struggled as they took hold of her, their claws pricking at her skin.

She was picked up and hoisted over a shoulder, carried her away from the house as if she were no more than a sack of grain. Time moved in a blur, whorls of dust rose to bathe her face as they moved down the slope toward the Den and then she was dumped unceremoniously in the mud, prone in the tall shadow of Sylvia's temple.

She tried in vain to search for Voris in the figures that came to surround her, she even tried to seek out the threshold of the temple, gathering her limbs she tried to claw, using fingers dug deep into the dirt, to pull herself across the mud. Gruff voices rose around her in a grim cacophony.

"There's no one to help you now, little meat." Bitter breath made her eyes water.

"First we'll fuck you and then we'll eat you."

A hand reached for her necklace, grasping it roughly. "No, leave it on." One said. "I can pretend I'm fucking a queen." A chorus of rough laughter.

They let her struggle, making little progress to flee their attentions but they could not restrain themselves for long and hands reached out and tore the dress from her.

Her limbs were seized; they stretched her legs wide, rough, callused hands and sharp, hard claws brushed against the tender and intimate parts of her. One after the other they came, thrusting and sucking at her; she couldn't remember how many or when one replaced the other and none were tender.

Her body was sore from the birthing and she was bleeding and ruined as they had their way with her. She lost consciousness as a paw swiped her hard across the face and when she regained consciousness, the smell of sex, blood and animal filled her senses and she could not prevent herself vomiting.

She could not open her eyes or if they were open it was black and terrifying in its obliqueness.

A hand reached and pulled her out she struggled impotently against the vice grip. "Sin." The voice familiar but did not dispel her abject fear. "Calm yourself."

She screamed and felt the bitter taste of her own blood fill her mouth.

"It is me." The voice again, his hands strong but gentle upon her. "Voris."

She could not prevent the screams, the tears the fear had rendered her dumb. Voris held her close to his chest, cushioning her bleeding, broken body against his chest until she dissolved into small shoulder wracking sobs and then eventually unconsciousness.

He took her gently in his arms and carried her out of the Den.


	28. Twenty Eight 18 11 2012 First Draft

Twenty Eight

* * *

It was called Meridianus for it was the southernmost slave camp on the island, and one of the oldest; hosting the direct descendants of the goddess. Despite the prestige of their lineage their home was bare: a trough of water for drinking and bathing, a fire pit for cooking and a cesspit for waste. Large logs had been struck into the earth to create a cage; they saw little of the verdant fields and only the magnificence and misery of the sky in the changing seasons. The place was pungent and by day loud with the screams and laughter of children, by night the slaves gathered in their shelters, sleeping close together for comfort and warmth.

In the space before day gave way to night, Voris kicked open the gate.

The slaves fled at the first sight of him, always their first instinct when come upon by a Hound, though they lingered in the back, peering at the curious sight of a Hound cradling an injured woman to his breast.

Sin came infrequently in and out of consciousness, though her vision was impaired by a grievous wound to her eye she could still make the orange glow of the torches lining the perimeter of the Hold to ward of the mysterious dark of the oncoming night.

Only a withered old hag, threadbare hessian smock and leaning heavily upon a crude and twisted stick had the nerve to step forward and face the Hound.

Voris caught the woman's milky gaze and his lips parted in sudden recognition. He eased Sin from his arms to the earth and was careful to lay her head gently upon the earth. "Help her." He said gruffly.

"What has happened here?" The woman asked, her voice was remarkably clear for her age.

Voris cast a bright eye to the many watching in the nooks and crannies of their twine and tarpaulin shelters before flicking to the old woman. "The Maistresse has granted her freedom." He pointed at the ruby ring that gleamed on Sin's marriage finger. "But she has been sorely used by Elysion."

The old woman's stare was cold and imperious moving over him from head to foot. "I will care for her."

He grunted his gratitude and left.

It was only then the other slaves dare venture from their hiding places, curious to see the heap of limbs that the Hound had lay at Joy's feet. Embolden by the Hound's departure they spoke. "It is a bad omen."

Joy turned her quick dark eyes to them all and bared her aged teeth in anger. "You will not lay a finger on this child."

Though the slaves remained huddled together, they jostled and pushed to come to the forefront to see the broken body prone on the ground. "Do you not know who she is?" A bitter voice rose from the crowd.

"She has been taken by the House." Another spoke. "She no longer belongs with us."

"She is a spy."

"That is Sin."

Whispers rose as the name ignited memories of the wilful sister who had defied the rules to the ruin of her own kin. "She is not one of us anymore."

"She is a curse."

"We should do her a mercy and take her life."

Joy raised her stick and pointed it accusingly from one slave to the other and they flinched at the prospect of being struck. "You shall not touch her, she is mine and mine alone now." Their curiosity was greatly diminished by her words and consternate expression, they left in small groups to attend to the evening meal, something which Joy had not partaken of in many years.

She turned back to the girl and clucked her tongue to see the cuts and bruises miring her skin from head to toe; luckily she was unconscious and unaware of the old woman having to drag her body across the earth to the crude wooden hut at the back of the Hold.

No one came to assist her, the older women held the children close to them to prevent them straying. But Sin was blissfully unaware of the event having since been robbed of her consciousness by a vivid dream.

* * *

Sin stood on the precipice at the highest point of the island, wind grasped at the fringes of her slave dress, some thin inconvenient fabric in the pale colours favoured by the Maegesters. Her hair was wild and woven with pearls from Elysion's shore, much like Lucerne had preferred of her.

The jasmine fragranced wind beckoned her to fall into the bosom of Elysion. Sin heard the call of the ocean waves, a voice formed of the winds of the sea calling her name_ sin, sin siiiin_. "Sin."

She turned her face away from the cliff and toward the sound of the voice.

Verain.

She fled to him, seeing him as a refuge from the horror that still simmering on her flesh. His face that had ever been beautiful was now cold, though his eyes swirling sunbursts of emotion and she started when he grasped her shoulders, fingertips digging cruelly into her skin, his lips parted and she saw his sharp teeth and her heart lurched.

"Verain?" She looked up at him; her body trembled with mounting fear.

He forced his mouth on hers, rough and intrusive and it brought helpless tears to her eyes. He was a Hound through and through, his touch indistinguishable from those of his kin who had so cruelly handled her.

"Please." She whimpered but her voice was lost.

He ripped her dress away from her to reveal her flesh was mottled with bruises and crisscrossed with claw marks. She tried to hold onto the fringes of the dress to conceal herself but he snatched the cloth away with a violent yank.

She manoeuvred away from him thinking she could escape him and the dark things he had in store for her but instead found Meagester Lucerne blocking her path. She looked back at Verain, perhaps he would…but there was no mercy in his expression and he looked eerily like his father.

Lucerne was beside her in an instant, one hand grasped a handful of her hair and he sunk his teeth into her throat and she screamed as teeth punctured her skin. Verain's claws pricked her tender flesh and her body was wracked with exquisite agony. Between them they consumed her.

She did not know at which point she freed herself from their hold, weak and crawling toward the edge of the cliff side. Phantoms sounds of the heckling hounds filled her ears, bitter, angry tears filled her eyes. She was at the edge of the precipice once more, looking down at the blurred vision of green and brown of the below. They called out to her, Lucerne's commanding voice, Verain's half growl, she could bear the sound and with a scream she flung herself off the edge.

She hurtled down. Down. Down to where Anata was sleeping; deep in the Elysion soil. Sin did not feel pain when she hit the soil, her bones did not break, blood did not flow; the ground enveloped her and dirt covered her. She was submerged deep in the earth and green came to conceal her resting place, from her skin vines grew, jasmine and roses burst into bloom on the surface where she had fallen.

There was peace in the grave she thought.

No sooner had she settled there a hand reached into the soil disturbing her resting place and she resisted it until she could not and she grasped the fingers and was pulled from the bosom of the earth and when she emerged her skin was brown and green and her mouth tasted of earth. "I'm dreaming." Sin whispered.

She woke.

Even as she tried to recall her dream it had become vague, her body was hot and cold with dread. It was dark all around her, the scents and sounds unfamiliar to her. She touched her right eye gingerly and winced in pain, a sudden movement made her sit up, a scream ready on her lips.

"Peace, Sin." The voice of an elderly woman.

"Abba?" She responded, her voice hoarse from lack of use.

The woman laughed. "You not know me, child."

"Joy?"

"Yes. Yes. Good."

Joy lit a lamp and only a dull glow broke through Sin's blurry vision. "Was it all a dream?"

"Not all." Joy said. Speaking as if she too had witnessed the dream.

The taste of soil lingered in Sin's mouth and she spat trying to rid herself of the taste. In its wake the delicious smell of broth rose, she'd not had the like since she was a little girl and a sigh puffed past her lips and she allowed herself to relax back into the makeshift bed which was a cloth pulled over densely packed straw.

As she came more awake the fullness of her injuries itched and stung, her face ached, she had to accept that her vision was impaired, her chest throbbed with injuries and the space between her legs burned intensely.

"You are not the first to have been taken by the House." Joy said as if from far away.

Sin sat in silence for a long time waiting for the old woman to continue, but even in that brief time she was plague with the memory of the Hounds: their hands upon her, tearing at her flesh, hot breath on her body. She was trembling as the memories rose and fell in her mind. Angry tears flooded her cheeks and she wiped them away quickly. "How is that you came to return here?" She asked Joy in a voice choked with emotion.

Joy sucked on her teeth thoughtfully she was crouched over her pot, stirring the broth for the others outside loathed to share their food with her. They still thought her spy for the House, as Sin has done when she was still living amongst her brothers and sisters.

"When I was a girl the slaves were not locked away." Sin was surprised. "Under the auspices of Maegester Lauren we could roam free, our homes were more than these wretched stick and mud huts. We could go to the fields and all hands were free to help in work. Though men and women were chosen to serve above in the House, they were not treated as they are now, like meat."

"What can this mean?"

"Lauren had respect." She said drawing her chin up. "He was a true leader and a just Maegester."

"But still we were without names." Sin murmured.

"Lauren named me himself." Joy said with feeling.

"You were his then?"

Joy took a deep breath, eyes returning to the whirlpool she had created in the centre of her pot. "He favoured me for a time." She said lightly.

"You were his lover." Sin said darkly, hating Meagester Lucerne.

Joy nodded. "Aye I loved him and I bore him a child."

Sin sucked in a breath and again tears filled her eyes as she realised there was so much of Joy's tale that was her own, though Joy thought of Lauren fondly, Sin hated Lucerne thoroughly for having chosen her. If only she could be that simple girl running into the fields at night.

"I know not what happened to him; perhaps the babe died for mixed blood is weak." Joy shrugged her narrow shoulders, there was regret in her but she had come to terms with this loss long ago it seemed.

"And for this…" Sin prompted.

"Lauren banished me. Though he made a gift of a ruby stone such as you wear there."

Sin looked down at her hand and jewel sparkled in the light, so it was a sign of freedom from the Maistresse. She looked toward Joy's direction, she had never seen the old woman wear such a thing for had the other slaves known of a jewel bestowed on her inevitably it would have been pilfered from amongst her things.

"You say he banished you, but did he no grant you freedom to re-join your family? Did he not set you free?" Sin asked with a vain hope that she could believe that her fate was not as grim as Joy's.

Joy laughed loudly making Sin flinch under the brittle rasping sound. "Family?" Joy sneered. "These suspicious, superstitious, ungrateful wretches?"

"But surely-"

"They think me the eyes of those above, they set me apart and share nothing with me." Joy said and turned her back on Sin as she added spice and herb to the broth. "This is a punishment."

Sin remembered throughout her childhood of the cruelty they had exacted on the old woman, she could imagine it would only have been worse in her youth. She wrapped her arms around herself and hissed at the pain.

Her thoughts went now to the child Joy had born, she had not seen a man that might be mistaken for Joy's child, perhaps she was right, perhaps such offspring would die. Perhaps her own child had passed away, it would have been a mercy…but then why would she have been granted freedom if her child had not been delivered alive onto the Maistress.

She released a shuddering breath as she had a flash of memory, the merest glimpse of the squalling child mired in her blood and gore. The small glimpse set a flutter to her heart and there was a bond as strong as she felt with Verain, though, she supposed it was probably best to forget such things. The child belonged to Pearl, it was the bargain she had struck for freedom. Or was Joy right…was this a punishment after all.

"Will you tell me your tale, in time?" Joy asked.

Sin nodded tears gleaming in her good eye.

* * *

The House was quiet that cool evening, calm had come upon Elysion since the coming of its heir but Pearl was restless, pacing beside her bed, the deception weighing heavy on her conscience. She had looked upon the child and felt sickened, its frail human heritage seemed apparent though the Lords and Ladies of Elysion cooed and fawned over it as if they did not see. How could they not? He smelt like vermin.

The child had his mother's eyes.

There was a light knock at the door and she startled. "Who is it?" She called out.

"It's me." It was Domitian's voice, low and languorous and full of familiarity.

She opened the door to find him leaning on the doorframe, a glass in one hand, an indolent smile twisting his lips. His eyes flew down to her diaphanous nightgown, her golden hair unshod and twisted in a rope down one shoulder "Let me in." His voice full of dark promise.

"You're drunk." She said in disgust; she looked beyond to the outer hall to see if he had been followed but there was no one there, not even the whisper of slaves treading about their duties.

"We are celebrating, are we not?" He said and raised his glass in a mock toast. "The birth of an heir."

"Leave me alone." She said and tried to force the door shut but he thwarted her efforts easily.

"Come." He said and strode into the room.

"Are you stupid?" She hissed. "My husband is not far away, he may come at any instant."

His lips parted to show the tips of his canines and then he smirked. "Your husband is with his son and quite content. I think I shall tarry a while."

She closed the door behind them; her heart began to race with panic. "What do you want of me?" She asked in a bare whisper as he pulse possessed her tongue.

"I am come to see how you are, giving birth must be such a harrowing thing for a girl so young." She gritted her teeth restraining a retort behind her teeth. He closed the distance between them, his eyes heavy lidded and his breath spiced with blood wine as he whispered. "I wonder if such a thing has malformed the sweet parts of you." He pinched her nipple as if trying to provoke milk but none came.

She pushed him hard and he stumbled back and fell onto the bed. "I am the Lady of Elysion, you will not speak to me like this." She said though her voice was quavering with the humiliation of being handled roughly.

A throaty laugh erupted from him. "Apologies, my Lady." He lay back on the bed and continued to laugh to himself.

"I have not forgotten our bargain." She said stiffly. "I have written my father and I expect his response any day now."

"I begin to think your promises a lie."

They were; she had not written to her father, all her attempts had been thwarted by Lucerne. "I can make you a House in your own right." She said firmly.

He sat up suddenly, his eyes sparkling no longer wine-addled but intent. He moved toward her, there was more menace than desire as he grasped the back of her neck with his hand, tightening his grip on the edge of pain. "Will you give me an heir also?" He asked.

"Let me go." She whispered

"You are the Lady of Elysion." He growled hotly in her ear his grip ever tightening. "Perhaps I will make a child in you to rule this paradise."

"Let me go." She begged, tears filling her eyes.

He was posed for sex or violence or a comingling of the two and with great effort and a shudder he released her, for an instant she had thought he wouldn't.

"Don't stay shut away for too long, m'dear." He said lightly lifting his glass again a departing toast and left her room.

She took moments to calm her nerves, her heart resumed to a regular rhythm and she adjusted her hair. He had left the door ajar and she went quickly to close it, she peered outside and saw the figure of Linnea standing in the hall staring coldly at her.

* * *

Updated 18/11/2012

Miss S


	29. Twenty Nine 26 01 2013

Twenty Nine

* * *

Time seemed to pass slowly as Sin healed, though her eye would not be as it once was and she would have difficulty seeing all her days. She had not the courage to venture outside Joy's sanctuary and she was conscious of the eyes of her kin watching her curiously from the gaps in the walls.

In the night her dreams were dark and comfortless, filled with the phantoms of the Hounds and their vile ministrations. By day she gained more strength, at first only able to sit up she soon found her feet but moved sluggishly about the place.

Joy moved efficiently, despite her awkward gait, there was still some of the graceful movement of the House in her. Sin was silent through most of the recovery and Joy did not press her but seemed grateful for the company after long years of solitude.

Sin felt loss in every fibre of her being and though she loathed to succumb to sleep because she feared it would rouse further memories she could not resist.

"Did you ever regret…being separated from your child?" She asked softly.

"I do not dwell on it." Came Joy's curt reply.

But Sin had no choice for her thoughts had shifted in the hours of darkness from the pain and humiliation and tit was to thoughts of the child she had born. For months she had existed with the babe's company walled inside her own flesh and whilst at time she had wondered if it were none other than a demon, it had been hers and for that she loved it at least a little and more she missed it.

"To die would have been a kinder fate." Joy murmured later as if they had never stopped speaking. "But it would not have pleased him."

"And you still think of that?" Sin asked a tinge of bitterness in her voice. "Pleasing your Maegester."

"Is that not why we are rendered thus?" Joy asked and shrugged.

Sin looked through her one good eye at her body, still bloated with the birth but bereft of life. "What if we were made for more than this?"

"You are young still." Joy said and clucked her tongue.

Sin didn't feel young, she thought upon it a she closed her eyes to sleep. Time shifted fitfully for each night was plagued by memories enhanced by the darkness and the claustrophobic confines of Joy's abode. A strange odour filled her senses, something sour and then thick and clogged up her nostrils until she began to cough. It was smoke.

She struggled to sit up, feeling weak and tender from her disorienting dream. What she could see was blurred by darkness and the smoke and then the startling bright orange of flames filled her poor vision.

She roused her limbs. "Joy." She cried but she couldn't hear nor sense the woman. "Joy?" She sputtered as she cried out.

She moved on hands and knees trying to feel for the old woman in the dark, but careful to avoid the heat and devouring flame. There, she felt the withered hand and pulled on it, hearing the sickening pop of a bone, with all her might and despite the pain she pulled Joy clear of the hut that was now completely alight. The structure collapsed into the sands of the Hold.

She collapsed beside Joy's inert body, still choking, she buried her face in the dirt to remove the heat of the fire from her skin.

She could not count the passage of time; figures emerged from the darkness bright eyed and baring their white teeth. In their hands they held crude weapons of wood and some implements of glinting steel, pointed at the two women prone in the dirt.

"Do it now." Someone urged.

"Run them through."

Sin opened her mouth thinking to utter a scream but the gates of the hold burst open and a growl thundered through the din. The Hound's paws were like thunder approaching Sin from behind, she now had her arms wrapped around Joy protecting her from those that she had once known as brothers and sisters.

"Come." The Hound now half beast and man growled. She knew it was Voris. He looked terrifying: his sharp teeth as keen as blades and large muscles and sinew gleaming from the fire's glow. He took Sin's hand, his was rough almost leathery with coarse hairs and sharp claws. "If you touch either of these women again I will come in the night and tear you from your sleep."

Murmurs were heard and screams and the dull thud of a woman fainting and children crying. They were scared.

"Know that they come with the protection of Dis and I will avenge them should you lead them to harm."

Sin was thoroughly grateful but she could not overcome her terror and her lack of vision exacerbated the panic swelling in her chest. Voris pulled her to her feet and then hoisted Joy into his arms and took them a safe distant from the flaming hut.

Her kin departed back to their own bunks but their eyes were ever watching, cautious to observe everything unfold.

Voris lay Joy down gently on the earth before the gates. Sin knelt beside the woman's body, with trembling hands she stroked wisps of hair back from the wrinkled face and tears wet her cheeks as Joy's flesh remained icy beneath her touch. Sin grasped one of the woman's hands and squeezed tight.

"She's dead." Voris murmured in her ear trying to ease the grip Sin had on the woman.

"No." Sin said her voice weak with grief.

"Let her go." He said and pulled her against his chest, she pressed her face into the fabric of his shirt.

"She was all I had left." Sin whispered.

Voris allowed her to cry until she could not and she stood and walked stiffly to the cooking pit. "Help me." She said as she tugged on a plank of wood. He moved quickly to help her and together they built a pyre around Joy's body.

He handed her the torch from the entryway and with a slight tremble in her arm and a prayer on her lips she set the pyre alight and through her narrowed vision saw the flames consume the wood and then hungrily devour Joy's withered body.

Mesmerised by the flames she thought she saw Irkalla dancing in the light, her hip posed seductively , her head turned to one side, smiling and with a curled finger beckoned Sin to the fire. Voris lay a hand on her upper arm drawing her away from the heat and the smoke.

She took hold of the chain about her throat and squeezed it tight in one hand, hard enough for the stones to bite and drawn blood from the flesh of her palm. She tore it roughly from her neck and chucked it into the fire, hoping the flames would destroy it.

She turned to the Hound, laying her head on Voris' chest; he stiffened but then relaxed arms drawing her in to a comforting hold. "What price is freedom?" She asked her voice muffled against his chest.

"Come." Voris said against her hair. "This will draw the Maegester's attention and I think it best no one find you here."

* * *

"What devilry is this?" Lucerne mused aloud at the sudden bright spark of light in the lower part of the island. Even through the trees he could see the light, a fire, he expected. A large one.

Domitian came to stand beside him. "A feast is it?"

Lucerne shook his head from side to side, he had commissioned no feast. The slaves had merely been given a reprieve form the rigorous attention of the Lords and Ladies of Elysion and their Hounds whilst they all celebrated the birth of the child.

"What say you we make a journey south?" Domitian said with a perverse smile. "If we find nothing amiss at least we might have a taste of something new."

Lucerne allowed Domitian to arrange the horses and soon they were taking the steep path toward the southern ridge, their mounts proceeding one at a time and it took about an hour at pace but Lucerne curiosity was provoked by the scent of the smoke and then, as they grew nearer, the unmistakable smell of burning flesh.

He glanced behind his shoulder at Domitian who had sensed the same and his dark brows rose.

The heat and scent had led them to the gates of Meridianus and her gates were sealed with thick steel chains. Lucerne dismounted first and handed his reins for Domitian to tether the horses. "Perhaps we should summon a Hound." Domitian murmured uneasily.

Lucerne unbound the gates and a gust of hot air assaulted his face. The stench of burning flesh was enough to make him choke. Domitian raised a handkerchief to his mouth and followed at Lucerne's shoulder. Through the barrelling reams of smoke they could distinguish a crude funeral pyre.

Lucerne could make out the shapes of the slaves in the outer darkness, peering from a distance at the flames and the Maegesters who appeared like phantoms.

"Whose flesh do you burn?" He demanded of them.

The Meridianus folk flocked together, a mass of trembling flesh and whilst he would usually delight in such things it only served to irritate him now. He wanted answers. "You." He pointed to a woman of middling years. "What is the meaning of this?"

"She was old, Maegester." The woman's voice quavered rendering her words almost indecipherable. "Her dwelling caught aflame."

His eyes moved from the pyre to the remains of the dwellings the slave indicated with a trembling hand. It was pushed far back in the cluster of stick huts. The cooking pit was to the far left, one could not meet the other and the slaves were not permitted candles to light the darkness. "How?"

The woman sputtered. The stench of a lie was already crawling over her as pungent as the nervous sweat that dripped between her shoulder blades. He gritted his teeth when she did not respond.

He motioned to Domitian who threw dirt on the pyre to kill the flame. All the while Lucerne watched the dark haired slaves, slivers of memory whispered across his mind, Sin and her long dark hair, her dark eyes, her wilful mouth…

When smoke hissed from the blackened wood, he pushed Domitian aside and walked into the ash, he disturbed the pile with his boot, overturning charred wood and dirt. There, something sparkled against the light of a torch. He crouched and ran his hand through the grey and smoulder and retrieved the bright spill of white gold and sapphires. A necklace.

He stood quickly. He expanded his senses trying to seek out something familiar but there was nothing but the gaggle of Meridianus slaves, a mindless babble of fear. He lifted eyes, now solid spheres of silver, toward the herd of slaves. He held up his findings to them, it glinted in the semi light. "To whom does this belong?"

The slaves cast their eyes to the ground.

"Do you wish to punish them?" Domitian murmured in his ear.

Lucerne shook his head, no but his eyes remained searching. "Let us return to the house." He said softly.

Lucerne sat alone in his room in the dark, in one hand he held the sapphire encrusted necklace, they split from between his fingers, cool upon his cold skin. Absorbed in thoughts of the slave, Sin. Her name had been Sin. He remembered how her large brown eyes would gleam, a paradox of distress and defiance.

His grip on the necklace tightened, biting into his skin. He remembered how he had placed the jewels around her neck, how lovely she had looked, how easily she had succumbed to him. Her blood had long since faded from his pallet but he could remember it. The taste of rebellion.

He stood and moved slowly toward the pedestail where a box was placed. Carved from oakwood and engraved with the tiger lily, this was Sin's box.

It had begun with his great-grandfather who had chosen a slave companion and favoured her with priceless adornments. It started for his own amusement for slaves were not buried, it had become tradition to commemorate their lives with a box wherein all the splendour that had been bestowed on the chattel in live was contained.

He opened the box it, the hinges were stiff from lack of use. A blood stained ribbon was carefully laid inside. The blood stain had become brown and brittle with age. He picked it up with reverent fingertips and sniffed it. He shuddered at the lingering scent of her, phantoms of pleasure, her flesh, her blood, her bright eyes came to him.

He kept the ribbon in his hand, clasping it like a talisman and lay the sapphire necklace in the box and closed it.

He left his room and walked aimlessly at first and then he started toward the nursery where his son lay sleeping in his crib.

The child was pearlescent in the semi-light, the pale white dusting of hair. He knew his son's eyes were beautiful large and brown. Such curious eyes.

He lifted the boy from the crib, gently so as not to wake him, he made a small, pleasant noise that kindled warmth in Lucerne's heart. The boy found a comfortable spot on his chest and went back to sleep. Lucerne gently sniffed the top of the baby's head.

The ribbon fell from his fingertips and fluttered delicately to the floor.

The scent of the boy was like wind and ocean surf. It was the scent of wildness and aspirations. It was the same scent as the ribbon that lay on the floor.

* * *

Updated 26/01/2013

Miss S


	30. Thirty 10 03 2013

Thirty

* * *

"Marry me." Francesca murmured as the sun sunk beneath the horizon.

Verain's head turned slowly to face her. "What?"

They lay together on the open soil, the forest surrounded them. Goosebumps alighted on their skin as the cool evening air moved across them. "Let's get married." She said. Her eyes held his. "Let's marry and leave this place."

"I…" Verain's lips parted but he could not form words. He stared up into her eyes, the curve of her lips and the amused expression of having caught him completely off guard.

"Don't you love me, Verain?"

"I do." An unspoken _but_ always hung in the air between them. Her smile receded to a thoughtful line and then her eyes moved from his to the wild. His eyes moved over her body, nude in the semi-darkness, marked by the dirt and the imprint of his nails. "I do." He said again.

He sat up, forest debris falling from him and floating delicately to the ground. It seemed the whole night had become silent as she had spoken those words, as if it were holding its breath. Marriage. The thought made his blood run cold with fear.

Francesca's hand cupped his cheek and he turned his wide eyes to meet hers. "Where are you?" She asked. She had often asked and he gave no answer. He never did.

His hand covered hers. "Is this what you want?" His voice was soft.

Her dark brows drew together. "We've been together for so long." She said. "Don't you want to?"

"I…" The hesitation was like a cut to her heart but he did not remove his hold on her hand. "Yes."

She hadn't expected the word to spring from his lips and she released a sharp breath. "Yes?"

"Yes." He said again.

She pressed her lips to his, joy suffused her and she didn't take the time to notice he did not respond under the pressure of her lips. She stood quickly, he watched her expression mutate between several tense expressions and then laughing she departed into the night.

Perplexed Verain stood and walked in a daze back to the villa, unconscious of his nudity and who might be watching. "I've seen Francesca." Lux said, interjecting on his thoughts. "I suppose I should congratulate you." Though he did not.

Verain could not meet the vampire's eye as he walked past and murmured an excuse about finding something to wear.

Lux caught Verain by the upper arm, fingers like bone and ice clasped around his muscle, squeezing hard. Verain eyes snapped to the vampire's and then slowly down to the pale hand on his arm. "Do you know what you're doing?" Lux asked.

Verain glared up at him, his eyes now eerily lit. Lux released him and Verain continued to pace away from him.

"That slave." Lux said casually, turning in time to see Verain pause in step. "What was she to you?"

A shudder possessed Verain's body, he had he spent every waking moment of the last twenty months supressing memories of Elysion. The vampire's words invoked the phantom of her scent and the jasmine of the Elysion hills. He closed his eyes but it only amplified the sense of home.

"You can't pretend it didn't happen." Lux said with all the emotion of one who had experienced loss and regret. "Francesca deserves more."

Verain whirled around, his eyes bright and teeth sharp with fury. "I want to forget Elysion." He barked. It had been almost two years…two years since he had thought to shape _her_ face in his mind, since his being had kindled to the spark that flickered dimly in his breast telling him that perhaps she lived.

Lux shook his head gently from side to side as if to say, without speaking, one could never forget Elysion.

"I love Francesca." Verain said from between his teeth.

"If you marry her…" Lux said and trailed off.

Verain's mind was already supplying the rest: it would not be fair to Francesca, to trap her into a life where she would only be half loved. He breathed a deep calming breath though his nostrils, his eyes resuming their normal shade. "I am going to marry her. We are going to leave this place."

That night he made love to Francesca in earnest, submerging himself in the feeling of her warmth, her passion, her scent. He was resolved to forget Elysion, forget what Lux had said. He worked himself into exhaustion and when he woke late the next day Francesca was not in bed beside him.

Panic spread through him, for an instant he did not know where he was. It was the awful old feeling of having lost something, or of having something suddenly taken away an act which would indefinably change life. Lux had spoken of her…he was too afraid to form her name for it would take a long time to clear it from his thoughts.

He couldn't live in the past; she wouldn't begrudge him a life here and now he was sure of it.

He gathered himself and got out of bed, stretching his limbs and pulling on some clothes he walked quietly through the halls only stopping when he heard the first rumble of voices below. It Was Caravella's unmistakable bass voice.

"If you marry him you will no longer be my daughter." Caravella said with regret apparent in his voice. A small hope it would tempt her to return to him. "Can you not see that he doesn't belong here, cara, he cannot belong to you."

"I love him." She said whilst tears fell the scent, salty and dense, in the air.

"I know." Caravella nodded reaching out a hand he touched his daughter's face and wiped a tear from her cheek. "I will miss you."

"Papa." She took a step toward him. His eyes lit with momentary hope that perhaps she would change her mind, her lips trembled, her whole being wracked with anguish. "I will miss you also." She said.

He left, closing the door behind him.

Francesca felt cold. So cold. Her father's presence withdrew and all the warmth she had known in her youth, the sense of family deserted her and she was uncertain about what the future held.

Verain appeared beside her, she hadn't even sensed him approach so great was her sense of grief. She put arms around herself, uncertain of everything.

Verain dared not reach out and touch her, he knew she had to make a weighty decision of her own, she was also losing the home and family she knew. "I am sorry." He murmured. "I do not mean to cause you pain."

"You are all I have left." Francesca said. "Don't break my heart."

He took her in his arms then, crushing her against his chest. Lux's words were still ringing in his ears, his dream and her words "_never come back_". He would try his best to forget Elysion, he would try his best to love Francesca with the pieces of his heart that remained.

* * *

Sin's face was upturned toward the sky and she saw the silhouette of dark shapes against the cloud heralding storms. She heard a sound like the snapping of sheets and the shadows took shape the likeness of enormous angels. _Siiiin. _A voice hissed on the wind, seeking her out. She gasped softly.

Voris held her in his arms, for she was too weak to walk far, he held her as they watched the clouds gather over Elysion.

"Do you see them?" She asked softly.

Voris grunted. He didn't see. He didn't see.

The rain began to fall, large drops, matting her hair to her skin.

"Put me down." She asked.

Her feet touched the dirt, the rain had fallen quickly and she was sunk ankle deep into the muddy pit. Voris watched her intently, concerned and curious for it was obvious to him, if not anyone else, that this girl was marked by her gods. She seemed to be seeing something he could not comprehend; it could have been the shock of losing her friend, the smoke invading her senses causing her to imagine.

Sin was seeing a figure in the distance, she took one step and then two toward it, a being of slim light, bright against the rain. "Abba." Sin cried out and fell to her knees.

Voris put his hands on her shoulders to steady here. "There's no one there." He said.

But Sin could see. Anata was there. Skin so pale she was blue, her veins stood out, green, purple, blue shining through her flesh. Her hair was dark and slick with the rain and her…such eyes…eyes large and filled with the bleakness of the sea.

"What more can Elysion take from me?" Sin growled her face turned down to the dirt and her hair trailing the mud. She lifted tear glazed eyes to the goddess who smiled that curiously amused smile. Like the tapestry in Lucerne's chambers, the statue in Ankti's villa.

Voris took hold of her shoulders and pulled her to her feet. "Come away, Sin." He said. "We must seek shelter before the rains and earth transports us to the underworld."

She allowed herself to be taken away; Voris effortlessly took her up into his arms again. She couldn't resist looking back, laying eyes on the vision of Anata continued to smile.

It was raining hard by the time Voris brought her to the shack. It was a wooden structure, the roof sinking with age. "It's not much but it will keep you dry."

She could almost cry looking at it: it was the most welcoming sight she had seen. "Thank you." She said with feeling. Then she was on her knees and he knelt to keep her from collapsing, an old habit.

"Do not thank me, child." He said with a sigh.

"I am free now." She said, her brown eyes large and wet with a mix of hope and sorrow. "Am I not?" But her mind was filled with the vision of Anata smiling that infuriating smile and deep in her heart she knew Elysion was far from done with her.

* * *

Updated 10/03/2013

Miss S


End file.
